Monroe and Rosalee Make a Porno and Other Smutty Stories
by WolfStar4
Summary: M-Rated "unofficial" companion to MonRosalee's Playlist; this is a series of smutty drabbles- freaky, dirty, graphic naked stuff happens. Heed the rating!
1. Christmas Present

_So this is the unofficial M-rated companion to MonRosalee's Playlist, without the song gimmick. I may still do some song-related ones, but not the main focus... I just wanted an outlet for my smut. However, I may also include some smut based on my Past Life stories as well. _

_Also, sorry, title is false advertising, at least at the present. The porno will come later haha_

_I don't own NBC, Grimm, the characters, the actors, or any of that nonsense. I just own a dirty imagination. Enjoy!_

* * *

Rosalee Calvert was feeling quite pleased with herself. It was about three days before Christmas, and her cunning plan was working like a charm. She conveniently "ran out" of wrapping paper, and made her fiancé, Monroe, run out for more. During rush hour. She would have plenty of time. She smiled to herself as she got everything ready. This was going to knock his socks off!

Monroe couldn't believe Rosalee ran out of wrapping paper, especially since she bought a brand new roll right before Thanksgiving… but, he conceded, there were many, many presents: for the newlywed Burkhardts, Hank, various family members, and a small army of trinkets for various members of the local Wesen community… but seriously, did it have to be today? Today was Friday; Christmas was Monday. It was also rush hour. But his Queen needed wrapping paper, who was he to deny her? Especially when she was such a good sport about their home being taken over by Christmas decorations as soon as the Halloween ones were put away. As when the Halloween decorations were going up, Rosalee had veto power, but she used it sparingly, saying she loved how happy it made him to be surrounded by decorations. The only two things that she outright banned were cotton "cobwebs" and tinsel ("It's just such a pain in the ass to get rid of!") and the skeleton flailing the morning star after the story of the shattered window; Monroe thought that was more than fair. She cheerfully helped him string lights and set up the toy trains. He was so happy to have her in his life.

When he finally reached the drugstore, it was actually less crowded than he thought it would be. The wrapping paper was on sale, so he was able to pick up 4 rolls for the price of 2. That should keep her well stocked through next Christmas, anyway. He paid for his goods and braced himself for another hour in traffic.

When Monroe arrived back at home 50 minutes later, he was starting to see why people may not think Christmas was all that great. But it didn't matter, he was home now. When he went to open the door, he found a red ribbon tied around the doorknob. Strange. He opened the door, and found that the ribbon led inside. A piece of paper was hanging on the ribbon. On closer inspection, the note read simply "Follow Me". He put his bag of wrapping paper down, took off his coat, untied the ribbon from the doorknob and closed the door. This was interesting, a little scavenger hunt for his Christmas present, perhaps? But why now, why not closer to the actual date? Oh well, it didn't really matter.

The ribbon led him all around the first level of the house and then up the stairs. He wound it around his hand, in case she wanted to use it again; it was an awful lot of red ribbon. The ribbon ended at their closed bedroom door, tied into a neat little bow on the doorknob. Another note, this one telling him "Come In". He tentatively opened the door.

Monroe's heart just about stopped. Their bedroom was alight with small red candles, and by their flickering glow, he saw Rosalee, his beautiful fiancée, lying on the bed, wearing, as far as he could tell, nothing but red ribbons and bows. He stood at the door, frozen. He was unsure what to do next, and part of him was convinced he was dreaming.

"Well, hello there," she intoned in a voice dripping with sensuality and desire, "Santa heard there was a very naughty boy that lives here… do you know anything about that?" Monroe walked slowly toward the bed feeling slightly dazed. She looked at him expectantly, and he realized she was waiting for an answer.

"I don't know, I thought I was good this year…"

"Well, are there any other boys who live here? Santa told me I was a present for the naughtiest boy who lived here… if it isn't you…" She pouted a little, but Monroe could tell she was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"Actually, come to think of it, I have been incredibly bad…"

"Well, then I must be your present. Come unwrap me!" Monroe walked over to the bed, and took in the sight of her. She had many ribbons wrapped up and down her arms and legs, as well as around her waist, breasts, and neck. There were bows where the ribbons intersected. Her legs were tied closed with a bow over her mound and her wrists were joined by a long ribbon. There were also bows in her hair. This obviously required a great deal of patience and work on Rosalee's part, so it would not be fair to fetch the scissors in his nightstand. He sat on the edge of the bed, just looking at her. He wanted to remember this, as this was probably the best Christmas present he was ever going to receive.

Rosalee watched Monroe's face as he looked her over. While he was looking at her, she got an idea.

"Actually, I forgot, there are a few rules you need to follow to claim your present." His head snapped up so fast she was sure he gave himself whiplash. "First, you need to take your clothes off. After you do that, I will give you further instructions." Rosalee waited as he removed his sweater and undershirt, his shoes and socks. However, as he was standing, unzipping his fly, the look on his face changed.

"Actually, if I'm a naughty boy, I don't think I would follow instructions anyway… right?" He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down. He was wearing his silky green Christmas present boxers. Rosalee could see that he was fairly hard, but was curious as to where he would take this.

"Entirely possible…"

"Right, well, I think I actually want to take advantage of this situation. I don't know when the opportunity will come up again…" He pushed his boxers down, and his magnificent cock was standing at attention. He then got up on the bed and gently flipped Rosalee on her side. She thought she saw his eyes flash red for a moment. "I think I'm going to require a little more incentive to follow your rules. You can start by putting those pretty little lips to use."

Rosalee was stunned, and felt a rush of warmth and wetness to her center. She knew her fiancé had a freaky streak a mile wide, but to take her while she was bound and demand she suck his cock? That was really hot. She obliged him, starting by lightly following the curves of his manhood with the very tip of her tongue. Normally when she sucked him, he would close his eyes, but she found him watching her intently, as if he were judging her. She nipped the tip before taking as much of him into her mouth as she could. He groaned, and put his hands in her hair. Normally, he allowed her to take charge while she was going down, but tonight he was a bad boy, after all. Rosalee felt his hands wrap tightly around the ribbons in her hair, and he took charge, shoving himself roughly into her mouth. Rosalee was actually surprised to realize how much she liked this turn of events, and she hummed and moaned around the delicious piece of meat in her mouth. She looked up to still find him staring at her. After a few minutes, he pulled her hair back so his manhood was pulled from her mouth.

"Well, you are certainly one of the better presents I've gotten from Santa… maybe not the best, but probably top five." He smirked as she glared at him. "Now, depending on how this plays out, you could be the best. We'll see. But I'm ready to cooperate now; what were these rules you needed me to follow?"

"Only that the bows may only be untied with your mouth, and each untied bow must be preceded by a kiss in the location of my choosing."

"Sounds fair. Where do you desire your first kiss?"

"On my lips, if you please." Monroe smiled and obliged. He kissed her deeply, trying to pour his gratitude into it. It was a game, but he wanted to let her know before things got heavier that he appreciated the work and planning that went into this. He let her tongue roll over his, and when he pulled away, he put his teeth to the bow around her neck and pulled. The bow slackened, and he pulled it from her neck.

"Kiss me there, where the bow was." He licked the ribbon's path and lightly kissed where the bow had sat. He then pulled himself up to survey the locations of the remaining bows. There had to be at least 20 of them, and he decided to save the biggest three for last, the ones over her breasts and her core. She probably thought he would go for those first… however, he liked her wrists being linked, so he might do that one last… He chose one of the bows wrapped around her lower legs.

"Top of my right foot." This went on for what seemed like hours. Both Monroe and Rosalee found it quite sensual. Finally, they were left with the three large bows and the bow that linked her wrists. He chose the bow on her mound and, without any prompting from her, started slowly licking her slit.

"That is not where I wanted a kiss," she breathed heavily as she did when she didn't want to admit she was enjoying something.

"Remember, naughty list. Actually, I think I'm quite done with these rules. I'm about ready to explode over here, so I'm just going to take care of this." He continued to lick her nub while rubbing circles with two fingers; he then roughly penetrated her with said fingers, causing her to moan loudly. She was so wet and more than ready. He roughly separated her legs and reached above her head, holding down the ribbon binding her wrists. This was unbelievably sexy, and he took one more look at the ribbons perched on her hardened nipples, her hair with bows coming undone, and the ribbon above her head. He gave her one more kiss before sliding into her. She struggled a little, attempting to wrap her arms around him, but not getting very far; he also made it a point not to disturb the remaining bows. He thanked his stars that he was tall enough to do this, and the concentrated on watching Rosalee's face contort with pleasure. He reached down and pinched her nub, and she cried out, writhing against him. She wanted more contact; however, she was the one who assigned him to the naughty list, so she would have to deal with those consequences. He drove deeper, feeling her tighten around him, and once again pinched her as she crashed down violently.

"And now, I'm going to give you a present. I think a nice pearl necklace will look lovely on that pretty neck, don't you agree?" He withdrew from her, and once again presented his cock to her. She knew he was close, and she once again hummed around his girth. As he crested, he pulled out and stroked himself hard, and he came all over her chest and the remaining ribbons. He collapsed panting against her, and gently untied the remaining bows. He reached over to his nightstand and pulled out some towels, and helped her wipe herself off. After she was finished, Rosalee snuggled close to his chest.

"So I take it you liked being on the naughty list? That wasn't quite how I imagined that playing out…"

"Well, you did start it. But I think I liked it. Definitely worth the traffic and the trouble… how long did it take you to tie all those bows?" She smiled. He loved the smiles she gave him after a satisfying encounter.

"Entirely too long. I'm glad you liked it, because I don't think I'll be doing anything that complicated for a while."

"Well then, I suppose it's my turn to come up with something… however, I think it's dinner time…" He smiled once more and kissed her forehead before rolling off the bed and tossing Rosalee her robe.


	2. Trailer Tryst

_As always, I own nothing except a dirty imagination and an apparent blatant disregard for other people's property._

* * *

Rosalee positively tingled with anticipation. She was seated in the passenger seat of Monroe's Beetle, and they were headed for an unknown location. The dare had been a simple one: make love to me in a forbidden place. He accepted the challenge (as he always did), and she could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew exactly where he would take her. She squirmed in her seat; she knew he could smell her desire, but he said nothing and kept his eyes on the road. It was a bright, clear Wednesday, and he picked her up from the shop with a promise she'd be back in a couple of hours; he'd also mentioned this morning that she might want to wear a skirt to work, since it was so nice out. Naughty boy.

After what seemed like an eternity, Monroe pulled into a storage yard. Rosalee's jaw dropped as he pulled up next to a silver Airstream Globetrotter that reflected the sunlight.

"Nick's trailer?" she asked. Part of her was horrified… a larger part of her was extremely turned on.

"You said a forbidden place. What's more forbidden for two Wesen than a Grimm's trailer?"

"Are you sure it's safe?" she asked. While she appreciated where he took this, the last thing she wanted was Nick and/or Hank walking in on them… especially with all those weapons and vials of lord-knows-what.

"He's working regular shift today. He never comes to the trailer during his shift; this is extracurricular." He pulled his spare key out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He held it open as she climbed in. He followed. She sat on the little futon, and started rubbing her calves together. He sat next to her, and pulled her into a kiss. It was desperate. She could smell his nerves. When they parted, he looked sheepish.

"Sorry, this actually reminds me of how I lost my virginity… we broke into our school and had sex on the faculty lounge couch. We almost got caught by the janitor." He watched Rosalee continue to rub her long, smooth legs together. She was stunning.

"So, we're teenagers," she punctuated each statement with a kiss up his neck, "sneaking into the Grimm's trailer," kiss, "on a dare," kiss, "and he'll cut off our heads if he finds us," kiss. He nodded as she continued kissing his neck.

"So we have to be quick and quiet…" he continued, "and if our parents found out we were breaking the Reinheitsgebot… but I can't help it… you're just so… foxy…" she giggled as she reached his lips and kissed him deeply. Bad puns aside, this was pretty hot. Even without the teenager aspect, there was a danger to making love in a Grimm's trailer. But Monroe's logic was flawless: it was dangerous for them on a historical level as not only Wesen but Wesen in a mixed relationship; it was dangerous now as they could get caught; and they would have to remember not to leave any evidence. But the logic center of her brain was getting screamed at by the part that wanted to jump his bones right now.

She continued to kiss him as they both removed their jackets. Rosalee broke the kiss to try to remove her shirt, but he stopped her.

"No," he panted, his face red, "we have to keep clothes on in case we're caught." Again, logical. She smiled as she snuggled close to him.

"Well, I think I can afford to take this off…" she slid her arms into her tee shirt and unhooked her bra. She tossed it on top of her jacket. "And probably this, too." She slid her panties off, and they joined her bra. Monroe pulled her onto his lap.

"You aren't just a fox, you're a little minx, you are…" he slid his hand under her shirt and pinched her nipple. "Bad girl." She gasped, partly from pleasure and partly from indignation.

"Keep calling me names, see how bad I can be." She reached between his legs and unzipped his jeans. Her lips once again found his as she stroked him through his boxers. He was so hard, and she was positively dripping for him; she roughly pulled his manhood free and gave him a few strokes. She once more found his lips, positioned herself over his lap, and eased down onto his cock. He hissed and broke the kiss, burying his face into her neck. She raised and lowered herself slowly, creating a rhythm. The denim felt delicious on her inner thighs.

"Fuck, babe, how do you stay so tight? It's always… ugh… we've been together how long? And it still feels like I'm taking a virgin every time…" he groaned and started thrusting upward in a counter rhythm.

"Ancient Oriental secret." She once again found his mouth, and leaned into him as he thrust deeply into her core. She had no idea; she often wondered that herself, how she could be sleeping with him for over a year, yet every encounter felt like the first time? Her best guess was how well he warmed her up with foreplay. But why was she worrying about this when she was riding her Blutbad boyfriend in a Grimm's trailer surrounded by deadly weapons? She increased her pace, and ran her hands through his hair. He was so sexy; his five o'clock shadow felt like sandpaper against her cheeks and lips. He once again reached up under her shirt and took a breast in each hand, kneading them roughly like large balls of dough, teasing the taut nipples. She ground herself against him, resisting the urge to pull his shirt off. She wanted more skin… One of his large hands left her breast and traveled under her skirt. His skilled hand rubbed her clit as she continued to bounce on top of him. He started biting her neck; not hard at first, but with a growing sense of urgency. He wanted her to come for him. Likewise, she wanted him to release for her. She gasped as he started biting down her shoulder and down her breasts. She was getting so close…

He bit down on her nipple and sent her over the edge. She came hard against him; he was not far behind. He gently eased her off him and looked at the veritable puddle on the lap of his jeans.

"And that's another thing, look how wet you get. I mean really…" she stopped him with a kiss.

"Why ask questions? It's not like I know the answer." She wrapped her arms around him again and sighed. "I just know that was really sexy… but we should get out of here. My parents should be home soon." She winked and gathered her things.

The next night, Monroe went with Nick to the trailer to look something up, and Nick couldn't help but notice the weird smirk on Monroe's face. However, the Grimm was pretty sure he didn't want to know.


	3. Old Toys

_I can't be the only one who feels like this would totally happen... _

_As always, I own nothing but a dirty mind._

* * *

Monroe was helping Rosalee pack up her apartment. He was so happy she agreed to move in with him that he volunteered to do whatever she needed. They were very efficient together, and most of her things were in neatly labeled boxes stacked by the door. The only thing left to pack up now was her bedroom. Monroe's job at the moment was to pull the boxes down from the shelf in the closet and deposit them on the floor next to the bed. Rosalee was sitting on the bed, sorting items into a "Keep It" box and a "Dump It" box at her feet. There weren't many boxes in the closet, so when he was finished, he started opening them. In the second box he opened, he encountered something that made him stop what he was doing.

"Love, are you satisfied with our sex life?" he asked. She looked up at him, questioning.

"Of course… I've never had it so good so consistently… why?"

He reached into a box and pulled out a bright blue dildo. The first thought that came to Rosalee's mind was how laughably small it seemed, especially when being held by the man with the biggest cock she'd ever seen, let alone fucked.

"So you're not turning to this guy to get your rocks off?" He smirked, barely containing his laughter. He knew the answer. He sat down on the bed next to her, and started stroking the fake cock like he was jerking himself off. She rolled her eyes and tried to grab it from him. He held it out of her reach.

"Uh uh. My little penis now." He looked into the box from whence it came, and pulled out a bottle labeled Sex Toy Cleaner. She again attempted to grab the dildo away from him, but he turned so she was flailing wildly against his back. He sprayed the toy, and reached behind him. She was still trying to grab it, and he got an idea. He turned into her, being sure to keep it out of her reach, and kissed her. She seemed surprised, but she closed her eyes and melted into him. Slowly, he unbuttoned her blouse. It was difficult to do with one hand, but he didn't want to risk her ruining his plan. She seemed to forget the dildo, and started helping him. He ran his fingers over the skin of her shoulders and he helped her take the blouse off, careful not to break the kiss. Then, he took the item of clothing and used it to wipe off the sex toy cleaner. He broke the kiss.

"So, Miss Calvert, when did you acquire this little penis? Inquiring minds want to know." She rolled her eyes again in frustration.

"I got it back in Seattle. Will you give it to me?"

"Oh, I'll give it to you, alright. When did you last use it?" She flushed, embarrassed.

"The… the day after we made love for the first time."

"Really? Didn't I satisfy you during our first encounter? Or, should I say, our first three encounters? Well, maybe not, because I seem to recall you on my doorstep that night begging for me to take you again…" His smile was now bordering on lecherous, and his erection was visible through his jeans. He was enjoying working her up.

"You satisfied me, but I wanted more… and that felt too small and weak compared to you. It worked fine before we started sleeping together, but then you ruined me. I felt alone and empty fucking that thing, and that's why I had to have you again…"

"So did you ever think of me when using this?" He started undoing his fly.

"All the time. Before we started sleeping together, I would use it almost every night, dreaming of you." His teasing was getting her hot and bothered, especially the question about using the toy to approximate him when she would lie awake alone, wishing he was on top of her, inside her. And now here he was, helping her get ready to move in with him; she would never be without him again. She reached for his pants, and pulled him free. He held the dildo next to his hard-on and smiled at the comparison, again containing his laughter. She pushed the fake penis away and greedily stuffed his cock into her mouth.

Back when it was just her and "Mr. Right", as she called it, she hoped Monroe would be at least as big as the silicone phallus. Their first night together, she was thrilled to find Monroe was nearly twice as big. He filled her, stretched her, and could do things that the toy could not: he ate her pussy until she came; he kissed and nibbled her neck and fondled her breasts; he groaned as she guided him into her depths, and whispered over and over again that he loved her; he made her his mate. The three times they had made love that night left her satisfied, but also ignited an inferno in her loins. It had been entirely too long since she'd been loved like that, if she had ever been loved like that at all. They parted ways in the morning, and while she was pleasantly sore, the loss of his presence made the fire rage. Where was he? Where was his cock? Why wasn't she fucking him RIGHT NOW? She attempted to take a shower with Mr. Right to relieve herself, but to no avail. She tried to get him off her mind, but she was agitated like a cat in heat. The only thing she could think of to relieve herself was to go to him and demand he fuck her. She went to his place, wearing nothing but a long coat that reached her knees. After all the pussyfooting around the fact that they wanted each other, she had to once again take charge. He opened the door, looking like he was fresh out of the shower, and invited her in. He offered to take her coat, and was stunned by the reveal that she was naked under the coat. Take me, she begged, I need you. She would have gotten on the floor and begged him if she had to. Fortunately, he didn't need to be asked twice. He swept his beautiful, naked girlfriend into his arms and was making to carry her upstairs as he had the night before. No, she whined, need you now. Couch. He deposited her on the fluffy sofa and started removing his clothes. She attacked his belt and fly, and made quick work of liberating his manhood from the confines of fabric. She grabbed it with both hands and started stroking roughly. He threw his head back and groaned. He was so hard, and she was already wet; she released him, and climbed onto the couch facing the cushions. She bent down and offered him her pussy. He probed her with a finger. You really weren't kidding, love, he said as he found her dripping with want. He positioned himself at her entrance and slowly slid into her. She shouted in a combination of pleasure and frustration. It was good to have him inside her again, but she wanted it hard and fast. Fuck me, she growled over her shoulder, woging angrily, fuck me harder than you've fucked any bitch before me. Wreak me, she demanded. The demands and dirty talk were a different side of her he hadn't seen the night before. He liked it. Monroe seemed to snap, and briefly woged himself. He let his inhibition fly out the window, and he pounded into her with abandon. She wanted this. She wanted this so much. She needed him to fill her. She reached down between her legs and stroked herself. She rubbed her breasts against the fabric of the couch. He leaned forward and bit her neck. Hard. She groaned and slammed herself backward against him as she shouted obscenities. She felt him shudder and he came inside her; a few more deep thrusts and she followed. He sat on the couch and pulled her into his lap, apologizing for the bite mark. In that moment, Rosalee swore she'd never use a dildo again.

In the present, Rosalee was sucking Monroe off slowly. This was probably going to be the last time they had sex in her old apartment, so she wanted to make it worth remembering. Monroe was now naked and was tugging at her pants. She let him slip from her mouth and pulled the offending items off so they were both naked. He pushed her onto her back. He had a smile that could only be described as evil. Pure, sexy evil.

"I need to conduct an experiment, if you don't mind." He pinned her arms above her head with one hand, while the other brought the sky blue dildo between her legs.

"Don't you dare!" She struggled against him. "I don't want that, I want you!"

"But I want proof! I need a set of control data!" He started sucking on her neck in just the right place that made her stop struggling as the floodgates opened between her legs. He wanted to fuck her with her own dildo.

"You are so mean!" she whimpered, frustrated but admittedly turned on.

"I know. Now are you going to cooperate?" She nodded, and he released his grip on her arms. "Now we are going to see how long it takes you to come with… does he have a name, by any chance?"

"Mr. Right." she mumbled miserably. He smiled, but again contained his laughter; such a gentleman.

"So we're going to see how long it takes you to come with Mr. Right, and then we'll see how long it takes you to come with me. Sound good?" She nodded. When she first met him, she thought he was just an awkward, sweet guy; once she bedded him, she found a sexual dynamo willing to try anything and everything. She loved it, but damn, some of his games could be downright mean. Satisfying, but mean.

"I'll help him, though, if he gets in trouble…" He rubbed Mr. Right along the outside of her slit. "You're gorgeous, you know that, right?" he asked absently, watching her shudder as he found the little pearl and started rubbing the phallus against it. He climbed off the bed and kneeled on the floor between her legs. He breathed in her scent and exhaled, blowing cool air onto her dripping folds. He rubbed Mr. Right through the soft hair between her legs, and, deciding she was wet enough, penetrated her. She keened softly, grabbing the blankets above her head as he watched the muscles of her pussy swallow the bright blue cock. He pushed it all the way in, and then started rotating it. Rosalee arched her back and moaned louder. He pulled the dildo most of the way out, turning it as he went, and continued to fuck her while twisting right and left. Her face was getting red, and she was panting.

"What's the matter, love? Never tried it like this?" She shook her head, seemingly unable to speak. He started licking her clit as he continued to slowly twist it in and out of her; and she moaned even louder, thrusting herself against it, desperately grabbing her breasts. He continued lapping up her sweet juices, licking her lower lips on either side of the bright blue that kept disappearing and reappearing. He was never really a fan of pornography, but suddenly it made sense to him; this was very sexy, watching but not participating, so to speak. He held the dildo in one hand and continued to pull it in and out of her and with the other hand he started stroking himself. Rosalee sat up a little, curious as to why he stopped licking her, and apparently the sight of him touching himself was too much to handle. She threw herself back onto the bed, shuddered, and came around the little blue cock. Monroe pulled it out of her and inspected it.

"Hmmm… On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate that orgasm?" She tried to glare at him, but her face was still red and glistening with a light layer of sweat.

"Umm… I don't know, a six? The twisting thing was really different, but it was still too small…" She watched him continue to manhandle himself. "Now that you have your data, can I have you? Please?" she whined. She knew he had a hard time resisting her when she begged for it. He pulled himself up onto the bed next to her, still stroking himself.

"In order to control the variables, we're going to have to do something unique… if you're up to it…" Her desire to just jump on him was momentarily overpowered by her confusion.

"What?"

"Well, in order to duplicate the twisting, you're going to have to get on top of me and every few thrusts, you're going to have to turn around on my cock… does that make sense?" Rosalee felt like all her blood was rushing to her clit and pussy lips. She loved riding him, but this new idea excited her… she couldn't believe how nice it felt when he twisted Mr. Right inside her, now to feel the same thing with him inside her… she just about threw him back onto the bed and straddled him. He was so hard, and she wanted to be filled. Instead of putting her weight on her knees and kneeling as she usually did, she would need to squat, putting the weight on her feet. She positioned herself and he reached up to help her balance. She wouldn't be able to take him fully in this position, but it was still deep enough to feel filled in comparison to Mr. Right. She bounced on his dick a few times, then slowly turned herself on him. He groaned as her inner muscles grasped him tightly. She, on the other hand, was intensely aware of every vein, every ridge of his cock within her. She held his hand as she bounced a few more times. She made another quarter turn, and he lifted his knees to give her leverage. She looked over her shoulder, and saw he was watching her intently.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you are? Like, even remotely?" His question seemed caught in his throat, as if he was forcing it out. "God, you're like… fuckin'... Aphrodite or something…" she spun herself again and he threw his head back and moaned loudly. Now it was Rosalee's turn to smirk evilly. She stopped bouncing and squeezed her inner muscles around him. She spun again, facing him once more, and again only squeezed him, no bouncing.

"Oh, now who's being mean?" he asked in a strangled voice. She covered his mouth with her hand.

"Shut up," she intoned darkly, "You know you like it." Squeeze. Squeeze. His eyes rolled back and he nodded. She had turned his own game around on him, and now he would pay the consequences. And he didn't mind one bit. She continued to spin, switching between bouncing on top of him and squeezing him inside her. She was enjoying this, and she was close, but she wanted more stimulation on her clit… she felt him tensing, and when she reached the point where she was facing him again, she kneeled down and took him fully into her, rocking back and forth and grinding herself into him. She leaned forward and kissed him as she squeezed him internally, and he couldn't take it anymore. He thrust up into her twice and released, coming inside her. She felt the heat spread within her, and she ground against him again. She released as well, and fell forward onto his chest. He tried to talk, but nothing was coming out. She sat up and let him slip out of her, but stayed seated on his groin.

"How was that set of data?" she asked him, panting, leaning forward so their chests met.

"I'll let you know when I pick my brain up off the floor. You're so hot, I think it melted out of my head… but how about you? One to ten?" She smiled and leaned in to kiss him.

"Eleven point five," she whispered against his lips.

"That's oddly specific. What do I have to do to hit twelve?"

"Not sure, but I think we can figure something out."


	4. School Daze

_I suppose I took a little inspiration from the description of the story "Mr. Monroe", but as a teacher of high school students myself, the idea skeeves me out a little... don't get me wrong, the imagery is hot, but I prefer to know the students are above the age of consent, you know? Also, I want to see Nick doing naked stuff with Renard... the amazingness of the dual shirtless rage... yes._

_As always, I don't own anything..._

* * *

Monroe sat at his desk fiddling with his tie. It was Rosalee's turn to come up with their latest sexploit. All she had told him was to dress with a long tie and collared shirt and wear his glasses. She seemed to have a thing for his glasses. They were currently very heavy into role-playing, with the understanding that whatever scenario the choosing partner presented, the other would go along with it. They did have a safe-word (quinoa) for when it was just too uncomfortable to continue, but they haven't had to use it yet; still, it was nice to know it was there.

He heard the stairs creak behind him, and he looked over his shoulder. Rosalee stepped around the corner, and he felt like he was going to pass out. Rosalee was standing in a white button-down shirt (with a red bra underneath), one of his red ties, white knee socks, chunky black heels, and a little red plaid skirt he was pretty sure he could see her underwear in… if she was wearing underwear at all, he currently couldn't tell. Her hair was in pigtails, she carried a book and was sucking on a red lollipop. She liked to wear red just to get him hot and bothered.

"Guten tag, Herr Monroe." She began brightly, in purposely awful German. "Do you have time to tutor me for the final?"

"Well, let me see, Frau Calvert…" He grabbed his planner from the desk and started randomly flipping through as she stepped closer.

"Herr Monroe, they won't let me graduate if I don't pass my German final," she purred in his ear. He felt his blood boiling within him… however, one aspect of this was making him a little uncomfortable… instead of dispensing completely with the game, he asked a question and hoped she would pick up the hint.

"Then could you please explain to me why you chose German as one of your majors? Was it to get your parents to send you to Germany so you could visit Amsterdam whenever you wished?"

It took Rosalee a minute to register what he said, but she understood; the idea of having sex with a high school student made him uncomfortable, so he was asking to make her a college student. Fine, that wouldn't really change the scenario, and they wouldn't get very far if he was uncomfortable…

"Well, Doctor Brahms said if I majored in International Studies, I should also major in a language… going to Amsterdam was just… an added perk."

"I see. And you have had almost all of your German coursework with me, have you not?" She nodded, and started rubbing his shoulders. "And what do your grades usually look like?" He started loosening his tie. Damn, she was sexy. She pulled a chair up to the desk, and he got a quick flash as to what was under the skirt: a teeny-tiny red thong. She sat and twirled a pigtail around her finger.

"Umm… I think I usually get C minuses…"

"And I take it you perform about the same in your other courses?"

"Well, yeah. I'm very busy, you know. As president of Alpha Psi Omega, I have a lot of important things to worry about…" Monroe held in a laugh, but he couldn't help smiling. "Look, Herr Monroe, I just need to ace this final and then I'll be out of your hair." She scooted closer to him, and undid the top button of her shirt. "Unless there's something else I can do to get that A…"

"Frau Calvert, I find this very unangebracht…" She cut him off with a passionate kiss and climbed on his lap. She pulled away from him, panting.

"Unange…what?" She attacked him again with another kiss. He pushed her away, straightening his glasses.

"Inappropriate." She started undoing more buttons of her blouse. "You should have learned that word last… semester…" She opened her shirt to reveal the lacy red bra. Of all the pieces of lingerie she owned, this one probably turned him on the most. She took his hands and placed them on the fabric while grinding her pelvis into his erection. He was very obviously itching to be liberated from his khakis.

"But Herr Monroe," she whined softly, "haven't you noticed how much I've wanted you? Ever since my first class with you?" she put her hands on his hands, making him squeeze her breasts through the fabric. "Remember that assignment where we had to describe our ideal significant others? Didn't you realize I was writing about you? I thought I described you to a tee…" She grabbed his tie and pulled him close to her, still grinding her hips into his. "If you didn't feel the same, why does your cock want to come out and play with me?" she whispered before kissing him again.

"Fine, you want that A?" he asked when she released him from the kiss, but still kept a tight grip on his tie. She nodded. "Then you're going to have to work for it, my way, no complaints. The first thing you're going to do is get off me." She backed off him and sat back in her chair, looking dejected. "Now, Frau Calvert," he said, unzipping his pants, "I am going to test your Latin skills by asking you to perform fellatio on me. Do you know what fellatio is?" she shook her head, and he pulled out his cock. "It means you're going to put your pretty little lips around my cock and suck until I tell you to stop. Do you understand that?" She nodded, and got down on the floor. She took his sizable manhood into her hands and stroked him up and down before starting to lick. She loved when he gave her commands. When they weren't roleplaying, he was so sweet and gentle, but she loved the animal she could call out of him. Even if she would never admit it to anyone, she loved when he ordered her around like his own personal sex slave. Don't get her wrong, she's equal opportunity and she loved ordering him around, too, but when he ordered her to suck him off like this, it made her panties hit the floor at terminal velocity. She felt his hands in her hair. Another thing she would never admit to anybody except him was she loved when he pulled her hair; she purposely put her hair in pigtails to give him something to hold on to. He did exactly what she wanted, twisting the pigtails tightly in his hands while starting to thrust into her mouth. She hummed, and began stroking his balls. He tasted wonderful, as he always did, and she looked up to find him with his eyes scrunched closed and beads of sweat forming on his forehead. God, he was sexy…

Monroe slowed his pace, and then pulled Rosalee's lips off him.

"Not bad, Frau Calvert…"

"Is that all? Can I go now?" She asked knowing the answer. His cock was a diamond covered in velvet, he was not going to let her go without a little more exercise.

"How badly do you want that A? Here is your problem, my dear, you obviously were never taught that if you're going to start something, you need to follow through." Now he grabbed her tie, and pulled her onto his lap with his raging hard-on still sticking out of his fly. He spoke quietly and menacingly. "Surely you didn't get to be the president of Alpha Psi Omega," he couldn't help chuckling, "with your virginity intact. Otherwise why would you proposition a professor? Tell me, how many frat boys or football players would just let you go after a little blow job?" he pulled her closer, nearly ripping the shirt from her shoulders. "How many boy have you convinced they were your first, hmm? That they popped your sweet little cherry? Ten? Fifteen? Thirty?" Before she could answer, he deftly unhooked her bra with one hand, and her beautiful breasts were on full display.

"Well let me tell you something, young lady: You are not the first student I've had come to me begging for an A, and you won't be the last." He pulled her tie tighter. "I fucked all of them, I'm gonna fuck you, and I'll fuck anyone else who comes to me begging for an A they don't deserve." With that, he attacked her breasts, biting and licking the taut nipples while guiding her hands down to stroke him. He slipped his hand up her skirt, and probed her slit. She was incredibly wet. He slide a finger into her, and she responded by attempting to ride his finger. "See, I knew you were just another Alpha Psi Omega slut. Look how you want it so much you'll even fuck my finger for it." He pulled her off him, and in one swift movement had her facing his desk, her skirt up. "Now, we can't risk anyone knowing we're in here, so if you don't mind…" he loosened her tie and put it in her mouth, effectively making a gag. He placed one of her legs up on the desk, moved the ridiculous red thong to the side, probed her once more to make sure she was ready, and drove deep, burying himself in her. She cried out against the gag, and forced herself back onto him.

"Oh, you really do want it, huh?" he asked her darkly in her ear, leaning up against her and grabbing one of her pigtails and slowly pulling. She nodded, and he pulled the pigtail harder. "How many other professors are you going to screw to save your GPA?" He started slowly thrusting in and out, and used his free hand to slap her ass. "Or have you already? Have all of your professors gotten to bury their bones in you, you little bitch?" She shook her head and tried to talk, but the tie was still in her mouth. "Wouldn't Mommy and Daddy be proud, their daughter whoring herself out to graduate…" Rosalee couldn't help but moan; she loved when he talked dirty, especially when he was whispering right in her ear. She again slammed herself backward onto him. She wanted him to touch her. She needed stimulation… she grabbed the hand that wasn't entangled in her hair and guided it to her clit. "Oh really, Frau Calvert, is that what you want?" he asked before biting into her neck, but he did not pull his hand away, wiggling his fingers to stimulate her. His other hand left her hair and started squeezing her breast while he pounded her. "If we both come, I'll make sure you get an A." he whispered into her ear, causing her to buck harder against him. A few minutes later, she found herself releasing against his fingers… but he still hadn't come yet. He withdrew from her, spun her around, and grabbed her pigtails again. "Fellatio. Now." She took a minute to look at him while she went down. His glasses were askew, and he seemed to be sweating from all the clothing he was wearing… he panted as he fucked her mouth, and she tasted herself on him. After a few moments, he pulled himself from her, roughly stroked a few times, and exploded on her face. He stood there panting, stroking himself to make sure it was all out.

"So do I get an A?" She asked as he handed her a towel. He laughed, the charade over.

"Sure… but just so you know, Alpha Psi Omega is the National Theater Honor Society… just for future reference."


	5. The Hunt

_In my other series_ MonRosalee's Playlist_, I created a family for Monroe and Rosalee. This is the story of how their oldest, Sophia, came to be..._

_Owning nothing, as usual..._

* * *

Monroe wasn't quite sure how to frame the request. Rosalee could tell that her husband's idea was making him nervous, but she just wished he'd spit it out already.

"Well, uh, the Full Red Moon is coming up…"

"Yes, it is August…"

"Well, uh…" he squeezed his eyes shut and forced the words out. The worst she could say was no, right?

"IwanttohuntyounakedthroughthewoodsandwhenIcatchyo uIwanttohavemywaywithyou." He opened up one eye to gauge her reaction. She was wearing a look of contemplation on her face.

"Are you sure you'd be able to control yourself, insofar as you wouldn't, you know, kill me?" she asked quietly. He knew why she was scared: when his parents had first come to meet her, they thought that Rosalee, as a Fuchsbau, was the prey in a celebratory hunt instead of Monroe's bride-to-be. His Blutbad parents had become very angry, and attempted to attack her until Monroe stopped them. She hadn't entirely gotten over that experience yet. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead.

"If you don't want to, I can come up with something else. And it doesn't have to be the full moon… but the idea of you running naked in the moonlight is pretty hot…" She snuggled closer to him.

"Let me think about it?" she asked quietly.

"Of course. It's not like I don't have a hundred other ideas and things I want to try." She nodded, and he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her forehead again. She put her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and breathed his scent. She allowed her mind to picture it.

"Are you going to be naked too, or just me?" she asked, eyes still closed.

"In my mind, we'd both be naked. I can't promise that I won't go at least partly wolfy, but I can try…" She imagined his burning red eyes stalking her, following her pale body in the night. Him chasing her down, wrestling her to the ground, and taking her… yes, that could be wonderful… She opened her eyes.

"One condition." He waited a beat.

"Which is…?" he asked.

"Not during the full moon… just in case. We can do it a few nights before. When is the full moon?"

"Umm… Sunday?"

"How about tomorrow night?" She asked, stroking the back of his neck.

"Really? You mean it?" she nodded, and he kissed her full on the lips. She was still a little nervous, but glad he was excited. "This is gonna be great!"

The next night, around two in the morning, the little Beetle pulled into a clearing deep in the woods. Monroe and Rosalee got out and checked their location again. They were miles from anywhere, and they made sure to choose a place that wasn't patrolled. Rosalee walked around to Monroe's side of the car, and took his hand. She was clearly a little nervous. He kissed the top of her head gently.

"So how do you want to do this?" He asked quietly.

"How about you close your eyes, I'll take off my clothes and run, you count to a hundred, take off your clothes, and follow me?" He nodded.

"Sounds good, but there are a few rivers and waterfalls around here. Just be aware of that… And no wolfsbane!"

"Would I do that to you?" she asked, and her smile radiated in the dark. "Okay, close your eyes…"

Monroe dutifully closed his eyes. He heard her clothes hit the ground, and the door to the Bug open and close. He took a deep breath in. Her scent was a little different tonight, but he couldn't quite place it. He felt her grab his wrist and guide his hand up to her breast; her nipple was hardening against the night air and his slack touch. She leaned in and kissed him fiercely, and then she was gone. One. Two. Three. He was very cognizant of how hard he was getting already. He counted slowly, and when he reached one hundred, he slowly removed his own clothes, putting them in a neat pile next to hers. He left the back driver's side door unlocked because they agreed trying to bring a key would not end well. He inhaled deeply. Now to find his mate.

Rosalee ran through the woods, and heard his approach. He was much faster than she. She could smell his desire; he was quite riled up. She found a small waterfall and climbed up the rocks, squatting on her hands and feet, sticking her breasts out. She wanted to look like a prize.

Monroe found her overlooking the small waterfall. She turned to face him, sticking her breasts out to him. The moonlight shone against her creamy skin, reflecting against her hair. Her eyes glowed gold at him, as he was sure his eyes burned red. She was Queen of the Waterfall, and she wanted him to desire her. And desire her he did. He said nothing, only growling as he reached down and stroked his manhood. She turned toward him, sitting in a fairly canine manner, like a dog waiting for a treat. Her pussy was open to the air and to him. He could smell her want as well. But he didn't want to try to take her up there; it was too dangerous. He stepped into the clean, cold water and paced below her, whining, stroking himself. She seemed to understand, and came down into the water with him. She rubbed herself against him, licking his cheek. She walked under the waterfall, soaking herself, letting the cool water run all over her skin. He joined her, holding her close to him and kissing her deeply, reverently. He released her, and she wandered behind the curtain of water. In the little pool behind the waterfall, Rosalee found a large rock. She tested it, and the area around it; finding it satisfactory, she glanced over her shoulder, hair still dripping, and bent forward, presenting herself to him, brushing her breasts against the stone.

He did not need to be told twice. He closed the space between them, and ran his fingers up and down her legs. However, it is rude to keep a willing female waiting. He fingered her slit, and found it warm, wet, and inviting. She was ready to mate, and so was he. He claimed her, driving himself fully into her depths. She growled with pleasure as he pounded into her, splashing more cool water against her skin. He didn't know why, but he felt the urge to scoop up a handful of water and pour it down her back; she shakes it off, but doesn't stop him when he does it again. She stops meeting his thrusts, and she turns to face him. She has an idea. He slowly withdraws from her and allows her to take charge. She gets up from the stone, and takes his hand, leading him back to the waterfall. When she is confident that he is on stable footing, she puts her hands around his neck and jumps up, wrapping her legs around him. He supports her thighs and guides her back down onto his erection. She begins to slowly bounce up and down on him as the water pours over their bodies. She kisses him, and he feels like he is going to explode from the stimulation. They had made love in the shower many, many times, but this was different. This was wild and open and fresh and clean, and a cool breeze played across their bare, wet bodies. He kisses her deeply, and feels her walls tighten around him. She's close, but he doesn't want to come while standing; he may drop her. He feels her stiffen and release, and supports her as she climbs off him. She leads him to the riverbank, and once again offers herself to him. He takes her once more from behind, and growls as he shoots his seed deep within her. They sit together in the water, exchanging kisses and touches, neither knowing that, deep inside Rosalee's body, they are about to create life.


	6. Skyfall (the Smutquel)

_So I think I might have mentioned this is a sort of smut-heavy companion to my series MonRosalee's Playlist. In it, I also explore Monroe and Rosalee's past lives together, including one taking place during WWII, in which Monroe is dashing British Royal Air Force pilot (and Fuchsbau) Raymond Calhoun, whose plane is downed behind enemy lines in Poland in a town involved in a Russian/German power struggle. He is rescued by Russian Blutbad Marina, a radio operator who can speak English (among other languages). Many of the songs I've used are James Bond theme songs, and this takes place in the middle of my fic Skyfall. Raymond and Marina are trying to escape to Russia by pretending to be a married couple, with Raymond as the mute husband; in the middle of the night, they enter an inn and there are suspicious German soldiers, so they have to make it as realistic as possible... then this stuff happens._

_As always, I own nothing but an overactive and dirty imagination. _

* * *

Raymond Calhoun and Marina were shown their quarters, and they prepared to settle in for the night. They both knew someone was listening outside their door. Marina seemed nervous, and he suddenly realized why. They were posing as a married couple, and somebody was listening. They had to make it realistic as possible. He walked up behind her, and gently kissed her neck. He wanted her, he did, but he didn't want their first time to be out of necessity… but it was too late now.

She turned into him, and he saw the tears in her eyes. It was too much, too soon, they hadn't even known each other a week… Oh well, at least this would be better than losing his virginity to some strumpet getting paid by the hour…

She kissed him. He was surprised at how fierce the kiss was. She pushed him on the bed and climbed on top of him, positioning her hips above his growing erection. She was certainly getting into it at any rate… She removed her blouse, and he was left in awe of her perfect breasts. As he admired them, she took his hands and placed them, palms down, onto the lovely round lumps. She smiled as he fumbled with them; she leaned forward and let him place his face in the space between them. Oh, god, he was in heaven. Her lemon and sage scent was magnified without her clothes, and feeling the soft pillows on either side of his face… Well, it looks like this will be his only opportunity, so he might as well take advantage. He opened his mouth and took one of her nipples into it. She gasped, and ground herself into him. He sucked the tender, sweet blossom, flicking it with his tongue, before turning his attention to the other. Oh, he could get used to this.

She pulled her breast free from his greedy mouth and tugged at his shirt. Together, they pulled it off, and she kissed him again. Feeling her skin against his sent more blood to his groin. He wanted her. So, so badly. He wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but they were soon both out of their clothes. She was so beautiful, sitting on top of him; she started rubbing her damp femininity up and down the length of his shaft. He felt like his dick was made of diamond and her pussy was made of velvet. He wanted to touch her, so he reached for her. She stopped rubbing against him, and lifted herself up fully onto her knees on either side of him. He slid a finger into her depths. It was warm, wet, and seemed to clamp around his finger, pulling him deeper. She moaned, and he almost did the same, but she put a hand over his mouth. Oh, right, mute. Damn. He was glad she at least remembered that important detail. It would be hard to explain the miracle fuck that restored his voice… but feeling her writhe into his touch was enough to make him want to believe in miracles, and that Heaven would be making love to this woman for eternity.

Finally, she once again straddled him and held him at her entrance. Slowly, slowly, she slid down his length; she was very slippery and tight. It took all his willpower not to explode as she inched herself down. However, about halfway in, he encountered resistance. His eyes snapped open, and he reached for her. She was a virgin, too. They were both sacrificing their virginity for the sake of their ruse. He lifted her chin so that she faced him, and they looked into each other's eyes. He leaned up and kissed her, as softly and sweetly as he could manage. She seemed to find her resolution, and pushed down, pushing him past the barrier until he was completely inside of her. At this point, Raymond allowed thousands of years of biology and evolution to take over. He tentatively thrust up into her; she responded by rocking back and forth. Working together, they found a rhythm. Soon, her kisses became more desperate, and he fought the urge to moan. He could see why the other men in the unit sought this as much as possible; it felt so wonderful. He remembered something he overheard during his training, and slipped his hand into the area where their bodies joined. He found the lump at the apex of her folds, and started rubbing. She gasped and increased her movements, so he continued, slowly increasing pressure. He felt his body begging for release, and felt her tighten around him. A strangled cry came from her mouth, and she collapsed onto him. He started shaking, and felt himself explode, shooting hot seed into her core. He pumped a few more times, slowly stroking patterns in the skin of her back. They were both panting heavily. He tentatively kissed her forehead; she slid off him, but cuddled close to his side. He kissed her cheek, and she smiled in the dark. She rested her head on his chest, and started tapping on his stomach. Morse Code.

"Like?" she asked silently.

"Yes. You?"

"Yes." She kissed him again, starting slow and gaining fire. He felt himself stir again. He wanted her again. He wanted her in every possible way. She must have sensed this, as her hand once again snaked down between his legs, and she found he was ready to go again. She kissed his chest, and trailed a line of kisses down his stomach and to his cock. She regarded it with equal measures lust and fascination before lightly kissing the tip. He threw his hand to his mouth to stop himself from groaning. He looked at her. She smiled a devious little smile, then licked the tip where she had just kissed it. Oh, God, she was an awful tease… then, without warning, she put her mouth around him and just about swallowed him whole. He had to bite the back of his arm to keep from crying out. When they were safe, he was going to have to get back at her for doing this to him while he couldn't make a sound. Maybe he would cover her mouth and make her stay silent as he licked her out. Or maybe he would take her dog-style and make her stay quiet through that… Uh, this was just so sexy… bad, bad girl.

After a pleasurable yet agonizing eternity, she came back up to lie next to him. He looked at her questioningly, and she tugged at his arm so that he got on top of her. He started kissing and licking her neck, and she started squirming. She was smiling, so he continued as she had. He arrived at her wetness, and slowly inserted his finger once again. The inner muscles still attempted to pull him in further, and she was again (still?) soaking wet. He rubbed her folds and covered his hand with her juices; he then rubbed his cock with them. He couldn't imagine the working girls the other men frequented letting him do that. He breathed in her scent, and pulled himself back over her. She was still smiling. She nodded her head as he climbed into position over her. This time, there was no doubt she wanted it. She was scared before, but he brought her pleasure she'd never known. And she wanted more. He positioned himself, and, with another kiss from his beautiful Marina, drove himself deep into her waiting depths. She gasped and clung to him as if her life depended on it… well, it did, actually. They may not make it over the border, and there is no telling what would happen after that, so if this was all they had, they needed to make the most of it. She hooked her legs around his waist, and pulled him closer, driving him deeper. Her fingertips drifted softly across his skin, and he looked upon the woman he was making love to. He had not yet even known her a week, but he was in love with her, this beautiful, painfully intelligent, brave woman. His lips ached for her kisses, and now they were experiencing each other in the most sacred of ways. He leaned forward, and she gasped into his mouth. He continued to pump in that position, holding her kiss. She moved her hand to where their bodies met, and started rubbing herself furiously. He again felt her tighten around him. He put his weight on one hand and massaged her breast, and she moaned into his mouth, her hand still moving quickly in circles. He pinched her nipple, and she again came for him. He pulled out of her, and she grabbed his cock roughly in her hands, stroking him fast. One hand reached behind and started stroking his testicles. He once again had to bite the back of his arm as he came violently on her chest. Small, white, sticky pools sat on her flawless skin, and she smiled up at him. Even in the dark, she glowed like a woman satisfied. He found an extra cloth and wiped her off gently. They both dressed once more, she snuggled her head into his chest, and they both drifted off to a satisfied sleep.


	7. Heat 2

_Once again, I bring up my own personal fanon, that female Fuchsbau go into heat in January like real foxes (as seen in my smutfic _Heat _as well as multiple other references...)_

* * *

This time, they were expecting it. Since Sophia was over two and a half years old now, it was logical that Entzünden would kick back in. Rosalee felt the stirring in her loins, and called her husband from the shop to let him know he should take Sophia to the Burkhardts'. She closed up the shop for the night and made her way home with the animalistic lust building. She needed her husband. Now.

Monroe returned from dropping Sophia off. The Burkhardts were on standby, and, after last time, Nick was given explicit instructions to not bother them until given the okay. Monroe felt badly about having to wake the little girl up from her nap, and then to not even properly pack her overnight bag… but the last Entzünden, when he refused to comply with Rosalee's desires, she drugged him and handcuffed him to their bed. While the handcuffs were interesting enough to revisit multiple times, the drugging was something the Blutbad wished to avoid. He even purposely kept the last week in January free just in case…

Monroe entered the house and breathed in deeply. She was home, and once more emitting gallons of pheromones. As he moved to take off his coat, he heard the door lock behind him. He turned, and found his wife, stark naked, standing as if to block the door. He drank in the sight of her, stretched across the doorway as if he would try to escape. After having Sophia, Rosalee was able to lose the baby weight very quickly, so she looked very much as she did when they married four years ago; the only differences were that she had gained a cup size and she now had a tiger striping of stretch marks. She found them frustrating, trying all sorts of Wesen and Kehrseite creams and butters and lotions to make them go away, or, failing that, make them less noticeable. Monroe secretly loved them; they were proof that he had marked her, making her the mother to his Pup. He thought the delicate lines suited her; she was a tiger in more ways than one, his sexy little striped Fox. Since she wouldn't listen to him when he told her he loved them, he made sure to show her instead, letting her know for certain he still found her desirable. Even now, his body stood in rapt attention for her as he removed his coat. He dropped it on the floor as she wordlessly slunk over to him; the sunset streamed through the stained glass above the door, throwing green, blue, and red light onto her body as she neared. She was radiant. She was horny. She was his.

"Hi," he said simply, opening his arms to her. She accepted his embrace, and kissed him deeply. She felt him straining for her through his pants. He was willing this time. She reached for his manhood, but he stopped her, breaking their kiss.

"Sorry. I know you need it, but we are not having sex in the doorway." Before she had time to respond, he swept her up and carried her upstairs to their room. He gently deposited her on the bed, then stepped back and opened his arms.

"Okay, have at it." Rosalee pounced on him with a force that caused him to stumble back a pace. She made quick work of unzipping his pants and pulling them and his boxers down in one quick motion. She then attacked his cock, licking and stroking it as he removed his shirt. He was then struck with some inspiration. He pulled himself from her mouth, and the Fuchsbau growled and bared her teeth at him.

"Sorry, but I have an idea. Remember last time, when we tried a sixty-nine for the first time?" She nodded warily. "I want to try it standing up." She cocked her head, considering.

"How?"

"I'm thinking I help you kind of do a headstand on the bed and we'll go from there?"

"You won't drop me?"

"Have I dropped you yet?" She shook her head. He had a point. She turned toward the bed and braced her arms on it. Monroe took a moment to observe her swollen pussy lips and clit. She needed a good fucking, but she would remain in this state until he came inside her, so he may as well take advantage of her lust overdrive by trying something new. He gently supported her, flipping her up into a headstand. He took her thighs onto his shoulders and gently lifted her off the bed. She latched onto his legs and, before he was sure he was situated, she once again attacked his cock with her lips. He adjusted his arms, and gently licked the beautiful slit before him. She moaned around him as he started to lick her out. She always tasted very good to him, sweet, but Entzünden hormones made her taste like he imagined the mythical ambrosia would, the nectar of the gods. How lucky was he, a mere mortal, to be permitted to drink such a thing from the most beautiful vessel, a goddess to rival Aphrodite herself.

Rosalee was surprised to find herself enjoying the experience, as the rush of blood to the head was intensifying everything. She never liked cunnilingus until Monroe. The first time they slept together, he ate her pussy until she came, and that dramatically changed her view of it. He was a great kisser, but he was even better when he kissed her lower lips. Pleasure ran up and down her body, and her nerves tingled; she was going to orgasm, soon. She moaned again around his cock, and he dipped his tongue into her as she shuddered and slumped against him. He gently disengaged, gently laying her out on the bed as she panted. He looked at her lying across their bed, and reached down and started stroking himself as he towered over her prone figure.

"What is your pleasure now, my love?" he asked. She watched his hand moving up and down his shaft, twisting around the head and the tip. She wanted it inside her, but she was feeling cold now…

"Shower." She said simply, and she got up and bounded toward their bathroom. Making love in the shower was a summer thing for them, letting the cool water run over their warm bodies; they had never tried it in the winter. She turned on the water and let it run over her hand. She heard him approach behind her, and she bent forward, actively tempting him.

"It's not hot enough yet," she said. She felt his hands on her waist, and then felt his cock between her legs.

"No, it isn't," he agreed before driving himself into her from behind. Rosalee smiled as he pounded her, her knees braced against the porcelain, cool water running over her hand. Her pussy welcomed the onslaught, wrapping tightly around his manhood as he thrust into her, and she met his thrusts with purpose. He ran his hands over the skin of her back and sides, grazing her breasts. The cool water turned warmer, and she stopped meeting his thrusts. He slid out of her, and her body screamed at her for letting him go. Didn't she realize he had to fuck her? She turned the shower head on and stepped inside. He followed.

Once they were in the shower, Monroe closed the curtain and looked up at his beautiful wife. She was standing in the stream of water, running her hands through her hair. She looked even more otherworldly as the mist rose around her. She reached for his hands, and placed them on her breasts as the water ran over her shoulders. He stepped closer, and pulled her into a kiss, gently massaging her breasts with his hands. She kissed him before turning around and once more presenting her pussy to him, bending forward with her hands on the shower floor. She braced herself, and felt him once more at her entrance. Hot water ran down her back and his chest as the steam rose around them, and he entered her once more, her position allowing him to penetrate deeply and hit the proper spot. Monroe reached around and rubbed her clit as he pounded into her. He was very close; there was so much stimulation, between the hot water and steam, the beautiful view, and feeling Rosalee around him. But he wanted her to come for him one more time; she was also very close. She shifted her position ever so slightly, and he pinched the delicate little nub. She screamed in release, and he couldn't take it anymore. He released as well, thrusting deeply into her once more.

He slid out of her, and gave her ass a little slap. They both then sat down in the streaming, steaming water, and Rosalee leaned her back into his chest. His hands found her breasts and teased the nipples as he nuzzled her neck.

"How was it?" he asked her quietly as she panted against him.

"I'm torn. I want more shower sex with hot water but I know it's going to be very cold when we turn the water off…" He looked mockingly insulted.

"What, you don't think I can keep my wife warm?" She smiled and reached up to run her hand through his wet hair.

"I don't know about warm, but you definitely know how to keep a woman hot."


	8. Thief of Hearts (the Smutquel)

_Once again, I bring you Past Life Smut! Huzzah! In this life, Monroe is Ambrose Dunn, Town Marshall of Ruby Hill, Nevada in 1871. Rosalee is Miss Rebecca Cooke, the owner and proprietor of the town's general store and druggist. Also appearing is Nathaniel "Nat" Burke, one of Nick's prior lives, a Grimm who is Ambrose's deputy. With Ambrose's guidance, the Grimm is learning a lot about the interactions of an almost entirely Wesen society microcosm. He also knows that the Blutbad Marshall is in love with the pretty Fuchsbau and she with him, and plots to bring them together. It doesn't work quite the way he planned... This is the smutty midquel to Thief of Hearts. Other stories in this life set are Good Guys Don't Always Wear White, All I Want Is You, and Christmas Carol, with hopefully another or two on the way._

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**Ruby Hill, Nevada, 1871**

"Goodnight, Miss Rebecca, take good care of him. I'll be by in the morning to check up on him." Deputy Nat Burke headed out the door.

Miss Rebecca Cooke looked at the unconscious man in her bathtub as the door closed. She held an Ace of Hearts in her hands that she had just pulled from his breast pocket. What Nat just said shattered her world if it meant what she thought it meant: Ambrose Dunn, the Town Marshall, currently unconscious in her bathtub, looking like he was sitting on Death's front porch, loved her. The one thing she had barely dared hope for was real! She had loved him since the first time they met, when he'd gently shook her hand by way of introduction. The polite gesture ignited a fire within her spirit, and she often found herself daydreaming about the Blutbad. He made her want to be tame; he made her want to be wild; he made her want to be everything, but only for him. And now Nat just told her he calls this Ace of Hearts his Becky Card, and he considers it good luck. She held the card to her chest, as if to absorb some of his love. All these years of desperately craving his love, could he really have been loving her from afar as well? He was so brave in the face of danger, staring Death himself in the eye… was he secretly scared she would break his heart? At that moment, Becky resolved that, if the Marshall survived, she would let him know she loved him too. However, if that was going to happen, she needed to take care of him. She looked at him again; goodness, he was dirty. She had just washed her dress and didn't want to have to wash it again so soon. And it would be bedtime soon enough anyway. Without a second thought, she stripped down to her camisole and bloomers and turned her attention back to Ambrose.

She removed his shirt, her fingers tingling as they ran over the skin of his chest. She wondered if she'd still be feeling like this if Nat hadn't told her Ambrose loved her… she removed his boots. His ankle was swelling and turning blue. It didn't feel broken; it was probably a bad sprain. Now, should she remove his trousers? On one hand, a little voice in her head said, she should preserve his modesty and her own purity; on the other hand, she was a healer, and it would do him no good to miss a cut or bullet wound because she wanted to preserve her purity. Also, would she ever get this opportunity again? Suppose Nat was wrong, and Ambrose held no affections for her? Maybe just seeing him naked once would be enough to sustain her as she carried on secretly pining for him. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to find another who spoke to her soul like he did… and with that, she quickly and quietly removed his trousers.

She'd only ever seen one naked man before, her dying father. Ambrose was young, strong, and virile. He was beautiful, even more beautiful than she'd imagined, and she spent a fair amount of time imagining what he looked like underneath his pressed shirt, vest, and trousers. Becky took her cloth and a bucket of water and started to gently wash his wounds, starting with his arms. He had a lot of cuts, and she gently scrubbed each one. She moved down his body, and round about when she was washing his stomach, she noticed a difference in his ample manhood; he was getting an erection. He was responding to her touch by becoming harder. She felt a strong desire to touch it, to stroke it as it got harder. She wanted to put it in her mouth. She wanted him to put it inside her and make her a mother (even though she had never experienced it, she knew the process of how babies were made). She could no longer fight the desire, and she gently touched it, running her fingers from the root to the tip. It was warm and smooth. And very large. She wondered if it would all fit in her. She ran her fingers on the muscles around his beautiful cock, and then remembered that she still needed to clean his legs and see what she could do about that ankle… she decided she could steal a stroke every now and again. Feeling him under her hand was electrifying, and she felt her own body getting excited. Her skin felt hot; her the fabric of her camisole seemed constricting to her hardening nipples; and she was pretty sure her bloomers had a warm puddle in their seat. She finished cleaning him off, and went back to the intriguing area. She gently wrapped her hand around his girth and started stroking him up and down. She noticed the different textures of the head, the shaft, and his testicles, which she stroked with her other hand. She wasn't sure why she wanted so desperately to put everything in her mouth. What would they taste like?

As she was stroking him, he came to with a groan. He slowly opened his eyes. His speech was slurred, and he sounded drunk.

"Oh, I love this dream. This is my favorite dream." Becky couldn't help giggling. He dreamed of her handling his manhood, did he? Well, now was as good a time as any to let him know it was mutual. How often had she touched herself wishing it was him? Fondling her breasts, rubbing her pussy?

"It's not a dream, Ambrose."

"Then I'm dead, aren't I? I'm dead and in Heaven, right?" She took one more stroke, then put her hands on her hips.

"Nope, wrong again." Ambrose suddenly looked mortified.

"Miss Rebecca, what… how…" he tried to sit up, wincing in pain. She stepped closer to where his head was and pinched his cheek.

"You're not dreaming. You got busted up right badly, and Nat and I brought you up here…"

"Nat…"

"Nat left. It's just me and you and this bucket of water. Now, tell me about this favorite dream of yours…" She desperately wanted to know what dreams he had of her. She wanted to know every single one so she could make them a reality.

"Oh, Miss Rebecca, I didn't mean to be improper…" She could no longer contain herself. She leaned in and stopped his speech with a kiss. Her lips felt like they were on fire touching his. She opened her mouth slightly, and her tongue licked his lips, begging entrance. His lips parted, and his tongue met hers as if they were lovers embracing after a long separation. At first he seemed shocked, but as he realized that this was real, he closed his eyes and stroked her hair. Ambrose felt like he could die the next minute and be happy, having had one sweet, deep kiss from beautiful Becky. After a time they parted.

"Wow…" Ambrose breathed. He felt like he was seeing stars. Becky. Kissed. Him. And not just a polite, ladylike kiss; no, she kissed him like she would die without him.

"Indeed. Do you think you can get up?" He grabbed the sides of the tub and attempted to stand up, but a sharp pain ran through his body from his ankle. He cried out in pain.

"Oh, right. I should have mentioned that." Becky said, looking upset. "Here." She gave him her hand, and pulled him into a sitting position. Somehow, between the two of them, they managed to get him out of the tub and onto her bed. Whether by accident or on purpose, Becky ended up on top of him. He now noticed she was in her underclothes. They were simple, but she looked beautiful in them. And she was on top of him. He smiled up at her; she smiled back at him. She started kissing whatever she could reach, and he kissed her forehead and the hand and arm stroking his chest.

"Do you love me?" Rebecca asked him, panting.

"Yes!" He gasped as her hand stroked his waist. "I've loved you since the day I met you!" She was kissing points of his chest.

"Good. I love you, too. Since the day we met." Rebecca felt like she was wearing far too much clothing.

"Wait, wait, stop…" Ambrose sat up, panting, wincing in pain. "Miss Rebecca, what has gotten into you? What are you doing?" She saw it now. The cloud of doubt was in his eyes. He still doubted she loved him, wanted him.

"It's just…" she tried to find the words, "I thought you were a goner. It looked right bad… and then Nat told me you loved me, and, well, I wanted to let you know how I felt in case…" she couldn't continue, thinking of what could have happened to him. She looked at him sadly, then snuggled against his bare shoulder. She felt his gently hand on her chin, and he lifted her eyes to his.

"That's fine, darlin', that's all I needed to know." He kissed her again as he laid back down on her big bed. She climbed on top of him; she wanted to cover him like a blanket. He reached his hand up and ran his fingers through her hair as his other hand found the small of her back. She broke the kiss, and started trailing a line of kisses down his neck… then down his chest… down his stomach… Becky decided she was quite done fighting the urge to shove his cock in her mouth. Ambrose groaned as she touched him again. Without warning, she put her lips around the tip and took as much of it into her mouth as she could.

"Oh god, woman." Ambrose groaned, closing his eyes. He was not expecting a polite lady like Becky to do that. He'd heard that Juanita, one of Miss Hettie's soiled doves, would lick and suck a man for $2. He felt her tongue run along his length, and then she tried to swallow him again. He opened his eyes. His body was on fire for her; he reached out and stroked her hair. It was a beautiful sight, her pretty lips wrapped tightly around his length, head bobbing up and down as his cock disappeared into her mouth. He'd wanted her so badly for so long, and now she was acting like his own personal whore with great enthusiasm. He felt like he was getting close to orgasm… he was going to release in her mouth is she didn't stop.

"Miss Rebecca…" he moaned, trying to pull her off him, but she slapped his hand away. He stiffened and exploded in her mouth. His emission was salty and sweet and reminded her of hot butterscotch. She released him from her mouth and made sure he was clean. She crawled back up to his chest and kissed him.

"You're naked in my bed, you can call me Becky to my face. You're delicious, by the way. Like candy." She kissed his neck again. His face was red.

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

"Before she died, my mother shared some… tips… on how to keep a man happy. "

"Oh. Ummm… well, I've never personally done it, but I've been told that men can return that particular favor?"

"We'll see… and, Mister Dunn, what have you personally done?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, we seem to be on track for my deflowering… how many notches are in your bedpost, Mister Dunn? How many other ladies have gotten to know you carnally? How many of Miss Hettie's girls have you visited, wishing they were me?" The Marshall looked downright offended.

"Miss… um, Becky…" he began, "How long have we known each other?"

"A good number of years."

"Well, I never wanted any girl or woman until I met you, and after we met, I didn't want any girl or woman but you. You're the first woman to see me naked since I was a kid. If we're on track for a deflowering, it'll be a double…" He stroked her back, and realization slowed dawned on him. "Do you want me to deflower you?" Her lips met his.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said against his lips. "Shall I deflower you as well, Marshall Dunn?" He nodded and they once again kissed deeply. Becky pulled away, and rolled off the bed. She shimmied out of her bloomers, and reached out to pull him into a sitting position. She reached to stroke him, and found him hard again. She climbed into his lap, and he tugged at the bottom of her camisole.

"Is this coming off, too?" She shook her head.

"One of the things Mama told me was always do something that would make him come back for more. Let's just say this is my insurance policy." She smiled, and opened her legs. She had a point; he was getting much more than he'd ever expected, so no use being greedy. Plus, this meant that she was anticipating wanting him to love her again. He really hoped he'd be able to meet her expectations. He put one hand once again on the small of her back while the other rubbed the soft dark patch of hair between her legs. He could smell how much she wanted him. She put her hand on his and guided him to her lower lips, using him as a proxy to rub herself. Becky couldn't believe it felt better than she had imagined… and then he slipped a finger inside her. She gasped and put an arm around his neck. His strong finger gently probed inside of her while he used his thumb to massage her clit. She moaned. He was pretty good at this. Part of her wanted to reconsider keeping her camisole on… she wanted his hands all over her… but no, she had to make him want to come back. Especially because she wanted him to touch her like this more. He kissed her neck, and he felt a rush of wetness around his finger. She was ready. Never make a willing female wait longer than you have to.

Becky straddled him and eased herself down onto his stiff cock. He kissed her neck as he broke through the resistance. If she was in pain, she didn't show it, drawing him into another deep kiss. She raised and lowered herself on him a few times, then stopped and squeezed her inner walls around him. As she was doing this, she lifted his hands and rested them on her breasts. He broke the kiss and looked at her questioningly.

"Just because you aren't allowed to see 'em yet doesn't mean you can't touch 'em." She resumed the up and down bouncing motion with her hands on his shoulders, throwing her hair back, moaning. Ambrose just watched her. His wildest dreams were becoming reality right now. His hands were on her breasts, and he could feel her nipples through the fabric; and, even more unbelievably, his cock was inside her and she was bouncing up and down on him like she was riding a horse. He pulled her closer, and started licking her neck. She moaned, and increased her motions.

"Do you like that?" he asked. He knew the answer, but wanted to hear her say it.

"Yes… yes…" she breathed. He started nipping her neck, gently taking the beautiful skin in his teeth and pulling. She gasped and ground herself into him. Her hands once again cover his hands on her breasts and she makes him squeeze her breasts hard. He felt her tighten around him; she must be ready for release. He squeezed her breasts and bit her neck hard. She cried out and tightened around him; however, she didn't stop moving. She wanted him to release as well. He put his face into the ruffles of her camisole and breathed in as she ran her fingers through his hair… soon, Ambrose exploded, and he fell backward on the bed, pulling Becky down with him. She rolled off him and stretched out next to him. She pulled a blanket over them both, and snuggled into his shoulder. Then she seemed to remember something, and grabbed something off the nearby table. Ambrose flushed a little to see his Ace of Hearts in her hand.

"So I guess this was good luck after all, huh?" She asked as she smiled at him. She was radiant in the afterglow.

"I should say so. My wildest dreams and fantasies just about came true." He took the card from her and tucked it into her camisole over her heart. He then pulled her close to him. He inhaled her scent as he drifted off to sleep.

Becky awoke in the morning to a warmth in her big bed she was not used to. She turned over and looked at the man sleeping next to her. Her lover. She felt a rush of warmth through her body as she remembered the previous night; every nerve felt alive, from fingertips to toes. Her hair even felt alive as she remembered his hands running through it. She felt pleasantly sore between her legs. She pulled her bloomers off the floor and put them back on. Nat said he'd be back in the morning to check on the Marshall, and she didn't want him to get the, well, correct impression. But he clearly intended them to get together, or else he wouldn't have mentioned it, right? She checked Ambrose's foot. He'd need to keep off it a few days. Maybe he'd stay with her. Maybe he'd love her again. She went about making breakfast.

Ambrose woke the next morning to the smell of coffee and bacon. He sat up, feeling stiff and sore, and realized the bed was not his. Across the room, Rebecca was making breakfast in a rumpled camisole and bloomers. She smiled as she saw him sit up, and brought a cup of coffee over to him.

"Breakfast will be ready directly. Your ankle still looks bad, so I think you're gonna need to be off it for a few days. If you'd like to stay here, you can…"

"Do you want me to stay here?" he questioned as she brought him over a plate with some bacon, eggs, and bread.

She sat next to him, kissed his forehead, and said in a low voice "If you can do those things you did last night again, you can stay here long as you like!"

"So I didn't dream all that? It was real?"

She nodded, pulled his lucky ace out of her camisole, and handed it to him. "Sometimes reality can be better than dreams, right?"

Ambrose smiled as he drew her close. "I know this one is, my little Queen of Hearts."


	9. Hopeless Wanderer (the Smutquel)

_More past life smut! And this time we have some pirate porn! Because I can! Muhahaha!_

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**1717, somewhere in the Caribbean**

Lieutenant Benjamin Harrington sat on the deck of the Starling in the dark, looking up at the stars over the Caribe. The Englishman was alone except for his flask. Two days from now, they would make port back in Jamaica, and he would have shore leave. Meaning he would have to go home. Back to Anne. Ben took another deep, miserable swig. Anne. As his head was back, he saw a shooting star. He wished that he would never have to go back to her. He wished for a grand adventure that would sweep him away from Jamaica and out to sea. Little did he know where the events of the next morning would take him.

In the morning, the alarm bells sounded, calling all hands to the deck. The Starling was coming upon a disabled ship; its colors were bound in such a way that nobody was really sure from whence it hailed; that didn't matter. The Captain ordered his First Lieutenant, a man named Mitchell, to organize a party to assist as he had Ben, his Second Lieutenant to bring the ship in closer. There was still a crew aboard the other ship, and they were waving their arms and calling out, but their words were lost to the wind. The Starling came up beside the disabled ship; a boy in the rigging of the other ship pulled a rope, and the ship's colors, tied to signal distress, fell open. Ben felt his heart drop as he saw a pirate's flag reveal itself, a red banner with black skull and a black flower. It was a trap, and they were about to be boarded. He unsheathed his sword and prepared to fight as a grappling hook landed above him.

The ensuing battle was a loud, chaotic mess of clashing metal and gunsmoke. Ben killed a pair men before a third slashed his face. While he clutched his face to try to stop the bleeding, he heard a click in his ear.

"Get on your knees." Ben had no choice but comply. He couldn't risk showing his true self.

Ben's wrists were bound behind him, and he was led across a gangplank onto the pirate vessel. He wondered who the Captain was. Each captain had their own style when it came to taking prisoners. Actually, this might be the answer he was looking for; he wished to never have to return to Anne, and his wish may be granted.

He was roughly shoved to his knees on the deck of the ship next to the other survivors. He realized he, as a Lieutenant, was the highest-ranking survivor; it was time to make peace with his possible fate.

The large African man looked over the prisoners before speaking in a loud clear voice.

"You have fought bravely; but your fate now lies with the Master of this ship. I present the Black Rose of Cartagena."

Ben felt his pulse race. He had heard of the Black Rose of Cartagena. Female pirates were few and far between, as pirates were a superstitious lot, but Black Rose's reputation was one of the strangest: when the Black Rose attacked, the highest-ranking survivor would be taken to her bedchamber, where the fate of the crew would be determined in a most unseemly manner. If the man pleased her, she would let the survivors go with their ship minus their cargo and riches; if not, the man would be marooned, and his surviving crew given an ultimatum: be marooned with him or serve her growing fleet. She was said to have very strict standards, and very few men had been able to satisfy her. He was so lost in thought that he did not realize the Pirate Mistress was standing in front of him until a hand lifted his chin.

Ben found himself looking up at a gorgeous woman; she had soft brown eyes, tanned skin, and shoulder-length brown hair with a gentle curl, tied back with a red scarf. She wore a number of small gold hoop earrings in each ear, a loose-fitting red shirt, black bodice, black trousers, and high black boots. The sun blazed off her bare shoulders. No, this might not be so bad after all; his skin seemed to warm in the places her fingertips touched. She turned his head, examining the cut on his forehead. Finally she spoke.

"Clean him up a little, then take him to my quarters. Put the rest in the Hold in anticipation of my decision." The pirate turned and walked away. Ben was lifted to his feet, and was taken in the opposite direction. He looked over his shoulder, and watched her bottom as she walked; there was a movement to her hips he found mesmerizing. He felt something in his veins he had not felt in many years: a surge of lust. He knew it was improper, as a married man and a sailor for England... but he could not help himself. His reverie was broken as his head was shoved into a barrel of water as if he were a drunk, and then his face roughly scrubbed with a cloth. Something was applied to the cut on his forehead that stung, but he could tell it stopped the bleeding. He was then led to the captain's quarters.

The pirate lady's quarters were fairly simple: a large looking-glass, a closet, a divider screen, a bedside table, and a large, sumptuous bed. It was clear where her priorities lie. Ben's bonds were undone, and his coat and shirt removed. He was shoved onto the bed, into the soft red and purple material. His wrists were again bound, but this time with ropes that came through holes in the headboard. His eye followed the ropes, and they went to the ceiling, where they joined to form a single rope that hung in the area over his groin. He had an inkling of what it was for, but was not entirely sure. Ben closed his eyes and breathed in slowly. She was not entirely human, but he had never met a fox Wesen before. The male scents were all quite faded; she had not had any conquests recently. He thought again of her bare shoulders and her small gold hoops, and he had the strange desire to lick her all over. Anne had once made him feel like that, but was always cold to his advances until one night she finally gave in. He immediately regretted the encounter, and that should have been the end of it; however, she was soon found to be with child, and her father, the Magistrate, had demanded he marry her. Marry they did, but Anne was still cold and distant. The child was stillborn, and Anne drifted further away. Ben heard gossip that she took comfort with the horse grooms; he took comfort in long sailings and hard work.

He was brought out of his reveries by the door opening, then closing, and a bolt sliding into place. The pirate queen lit a candle, and approached, looking over the man bound to her bed. She then went behind the screen, taking the candle with her. Ben's eyes were drawn to the light, and he watched this shadow of a woman undress; He felt his loins straining against fabric as he saw her divest herself of the boots, then the trousers, then the bodice, and then the red shirt. She then started brushing out her hair, turning her body to a side profile, allowing her prisoner to appreciate her figure. She had good, womanly hips, a trim waist, and perky bosoms. She finally stepped out from behind the screen and approached the man with the candle in hand.

"And what is your name, sirrah?" Ben could not answer; the words would not come. In the glow of the candle, the woman stood like a beautiful bronze statue; her hair fell over her breasts like a painting of a mermaid, and every inch of his body was calling out to be closer to her, to feel her rub herself against him. His manhood especially stretched toward her. She climbed up onto the bed, gingerly balancing the candle.

"I said, what is your name, sirrah?" She tipped the candle to the side, and melted wax poured onto his bare chest. He gasped. If felt strange, but it excited him further.

"Ben. Uh, Benjamin Harrington, if it please the lady." She pressed her finger into the cooling wax, and rolled it into a small ball. He smelled her need growing as she looked him over again. She checked his bonds, placed her candle on the table, and slowly began to remove his trousers. She smiled at the size of the organ waiting at attention on the other side of the fabric.

"Well, Lieutenant, I must offer my appreciation for your enthusiasm. Many men of higher rank than you have failed to perform because they couldn't summon themselves. This raises many questions for me, but questions will wait, savvy?" The man nodded, and the pirate gently took his length into her hands and slowly stroked. Her nails gently tugged at his testicles as they ran up and down the skin, and Ben felt as if all the blood from his body would burst forth from him. Anne had once touched him like this, years ago... No, stop thinking about Anne. Think instead about the beautiful seductress before you, his raging lust cried. Think about your men; please her and save them.

The lady seemed satisfied he was ready, and pulled the rope hanging from the ceiling above him. It pulled his arms up. She put a leg over his waist and sat gazing over him. She felt a little confused; here was a man, likely married with children, being threatened by a dangerous woman... Many men of higher rank had cowered before her, begging her to leave them this one was incredibly excited about the prospect of having to satisfy her. Not only that, but his manhood put the other men to shame in both length and girth. She also found herself inexplicably drawn to him, not just wanting to touch and be touched by him, but wanting to talk to him, learn his life story, and create more stories with him. She pushed those thoughts away. She sounded like a child dreaming of true love. She needed sex and power and to dominate this man and the seas of the Caribbean; thoughts of love would only distract her. But the look in his eyes when he'd first seen her… when she gazed upon him, a spark within her was ignited, almost as if her soul recognized him...

"Are you well, milady?" The man between her legs asked, bringing her out of her trance. She nodded, and brought herself down upon his length. The man groaned as a tight, wet softness wrapped around him; the pirate refrained from moaning as she felt him stretch her insides. He was definitely the biggest she ever had, and she felt full as she sat astride the man. When he was completely inside her, she just sat there for a moment; she wanted to remember this feeling. What Ben saw was a woman zoning out twice in under a minute, so he did what his body told him to do: he thrust up into her. This made her throw her head back; suddenly, as if something inside her snapped, she started moving her hips on top of him with a fury. Ben watched her breasts bounce before him, wishing he could touch them, taste them. This is what he always wanted, to please an enthusiastic woman. As a child, he often heard his father and mother in the night, creating his many brothers and sisters, and how happy they appeared in the day seemed directly correlated to their happiness in the dark. This is how he knew he failed with Anne, when she was dispassionate under him, the miserable looks every time he tried to bed her. And now he had a wild pirate woman acting as all he ever wanted... He couldn't help the tears slipping from his eyes. He felt the woman slow and she leaned forward onto him. She wiped his eyes.

"Am I hurting you?" She asked quietly. She had a concerned tone in her voice as her breasts rubbed against his chest.

"No... It's just... Could you kiss me? Please? Just once?" The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously and the muscles ensnaring him within her clenched even tighter around him. She thought for a moment, then closed her eyes, and met his lips. He closed his eyes, and felt the fire rage further within him. He opened his mouth and his tongue licked her lips. Her mouth opened as well and she started once more moving her hips as they kissed. Their tongues twisted together as the woman's hand ran over the captive's body, and she increased her pace. He wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her... He felt a surge of strength and the ropes around his wrists frayed. She gasped softly into his mouth in surprise as his hands began to explore her body and they continued to kiss. He touched her shoulders, breasts, and rested his hands on her hips, thrusting harder into her. He broke the kiss, and felt the lady's inner muscles tighten as he sat up. He kissed her neck, pulling her close to him. She continued to ride him as the kisses turned to bites. He gently bit her neck and shoulders, and she responded by running her hands through his hair. Ben shifted his position, and the woman cried out. He hit the same spot again and again, and she unraveled around him noisily. She eased off of him, and stroked him. Feeling her hands on him in the open air was too much, and he shot his seed into the air. Much of it landed on her, and she smiled, panting. Ben wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked sheepishly at the woman.

"Sorry I broke your ropes…"

"I needed new ones anyway. Well, Lieutenant Harrington, you have succeeded where very few men have… you and your crew may leave once my men help themselves to the spoils." There was a note of sadness to her voice, and she looked down at the rumpled sheets, running her fingers along the fabric next to his leg..

"Actually, if it would please the Lady, I would like to negotiate the terms of my surrender." She looked up, questioning. "I would like to offer myself in exchange for some of the goods carried aboard the Starling." She smiled at him. She was radiant by the glow of the candle.

"So you're willing to abandon your post and the Crown, become a fugitive, and stay aboard as the prisoner of a Pirate Queen? I warn you, I can be a harsh mistress."

"I am, and I understand."

"And you would answer my every command? Follow my every order? To the depths of Davy Jones's locker?"

"Yes, mistress." Her fingers moved to his leg.  
"I agree to your terms. Your men shall be released with half of their holdings intact. I will take you on as a regular crew member; we put to port roughly a week hence, and I plan on taking on a new crew. You have a week to earn my loyalty and trust, or I shall cast ye out with the bilge." She stood, and put on a dressing gown. Ben had to admit he was quite sad to see her cover herself again. She walked to the door. "I must speak to Tobin, then I will be back. I will have the cook bring us some supper here. Please make yourself comfortable. Welcome aboard the Deception." She slid the bolt open, and left, closing the door behind her. Ben covered himself with the silky sheets, and laid back on the large pillow; looks like he was getting his adventure after all.


	10. Demonstration

_And the follow-up to Hopeless Wanderer... because pirate sex is never enough, we need kinky pirate sex..._

_Goodness, I have a dirty mind... But so do you if you're still reading!_

* * *

**1718, somewhere in the Caribbean**

Rosa the Pirate Queen sighed, looking at the man bound to her bed. He was a somewhat older gentleman, powdered wig slightly askew, begging her to spare him the indignity of what she was about to do with tears in his eyes. Well, she wouldn't be able to do anything if he didn't summon himself; in fact, just the opposite appeared to be happening, and his manhood seemed to shrivel away, hiding from her.

"Now Captain, is this really the manner in which you choose to present yourself to a lady? Especially with the lives of many fine men at stake?" She kneeled on the bed above him. He was staring at her bare body, but he wasn't getting any harder. "How DID you manage such a lofty position as such a coward?" He continued blithering. She sighed again and rolled her eyes. This was going nowhere. Just as well, she really had no interest in this man anyway.

"Benny," she called, "Benny, I need your assistance." She smiled as her first mate entered her room. He was stationed outside the door in case she needed him, which seemed to be more and more lately.

"Yes, m'lady?" Her eyes danced across his features: his dark, curly hair; his dark beard and brown eyes; the single gold earring; the scar on his forehead from the day they met many months ago. He in turn looked upon her with adoration, and the bound man could tell that the two were lovers. There was a heat that rose in the air just when they looked at each other, and even through his trousers the man was visibly excited to be in the naked woman's presence. .

"Benny, this man isn't performing." Rosa whined like a child with a broken toy.

"He can't or he won't?" He narrowed his eyes at the man who dared disappoint the Lady. The bound man shrank into the bed away from the glare. Was she going to have this man kill him?

"Does it matter, Benny? Methinks he needs a demonstration on how to act when lives are at stake."

"If you wish it, mistress." He quickly removed his shirt and dropped his trousers. The captive noticed that he had an impressive rod. No wonder the Black Rose of Cartagena had such high standards if this was the man she bedded regularly. The man called Benny started stroking himself roughly, looking lustfully at the Pirate Queen. The bound Captain realized that he was going to be forced to watch them copulate. That was even more embarrassing than his frightened refusal to allow her to bed him.

"Now, good sir, please pay attention." She got on all fours, turning herself perpendicular to the captive. Benny kneeled on the bed, his manhood at full attention. He approached her from behind, and rubbed between her legs. She moaned happily, and a big smile spread across her face. She was clearly thrilled by the turn of events.

"Now then. This is what is expected when you are asked to perform when your life and the life of your crew are at stake. Whenever you're ready, Benny." Benny slapped the woman's rump and slid into her. The captive found he could not look away, could not close his eyes to the scene. Rosa enthusiastically met her lover's thrusts, gasping loudly. Benny likewise grunted, rubbing his hands on her hips and back.

"So, you see, Sir, it really isn't that difficult. Oh, oh my. Benny, please be a dear and pull my hair a bit." Benny reached out and grabbed a large handful of her curly brown locks and pulled them like a horse's reins. She moaned again, pleased with the sensations. She reached up between her legs and started to furiously rub herself as Benny continued to pound into her.

"Madam, may I be so bold as to ask our guest a question?" Benny panted as he once again slapped Rosa's behind.

"By all means, my dear. Just don't stop, whatever you do."

"Of course not, love." He turned his face to the man, continuing to move inside the woman. "Sir, do you manage to please your wife like this? I daresay you've missed out on a wonderful opportunity here…" the woman cried out in pleasure and slowed her hips as she collapsed onto the bed. The captive man realized she must have reached release; he didn't even know female release was possible. She panted as Benny slowly continued to pump into her.

"Oh, Benny, that was wonderful. And now it is your turn. Do you wish to continue like this or go a different way?" Benny withdrew from her and turned back onto the bed, lying next to the bound, naked man. The bed was large enough that three grown men could fit comfortably side by side, so there was plenty of space.

"I'd like to show him again what he's missing, Mistress." She smiled again as she climbed over him, settling down on his manhood. The Captain now not only had to watch, but Rosa's foot was now curling in pleasure against his leg. This was embarrassing and unseemly, but at the same time, strangely fascinating. Benny had asked him if he managed to please his wife. He never thought about it, but his wife was a proper lady, not like this sea strumpet… and yet, it was refreshing to see a woman enjoying herself. The woman leaned forward and Benny took one of her breasts into his mouth, licking and sucking on it. No, his wife would certainly never let him do that, but he did desperately want to. His jealously must have been apparent, because the pirate woman looked over at him and caught his eye.

"Jealous are we? Well, maybe if you had done what I asked when I asked, this would be you under me instead of Benny. Benny, the man's jealous of you." Benny laughed, and bucked his hips harder, causing the woman to again yelp sharply with pleasure.

"Why shouldn't he be? He failed. I never fail, and that is why I am allowed to have you."

"Indeed. And what happens when you stop performing to expectations?"

"I will stop getting to have you. And at that point, you may as well maroon me like the others who cannot satisfy you." Benny reached up and rubbed woman's shoulders. "Mistress, I… I…" he panted, and the woman leaned forward and kissed him fiercely on the lips. The man released with a shudder. Rosa kissed his forehead, wiping away the beads of sweat. He smiled up at her. She returned the smile, leaned forward onto him, and kissed him once more. She had a glow about her that the prisoner had to admit he'd never seen on a woman. If he ever got back to his wife, he would have to try harder. Rosa slid off her lover, and he rolled onto his side, spooning her from behind, his arm protectively wrapped around her chest, trailing kisses down her neck.

"So, dear sir... Benny, stop… I need to talk to our guest."

"Must I, Mistress?"

"Just for a moment, dear." Benny pouted, burying his face into her hair. She cleared her throat. "Since you were unable to perform, you will be left on the next uninhabited isle we cross. We will leave you, as is tradition, with a gun with a single shot. Your men will be given the option to join you or join us. Your ship and its holdings are now ours. I will inform Tobin, our quartermaster, and he will make arrangements. Benny," she turned and kissed him on the cheek. "Benny, take care of the Captain and bring him down to the hold, then meet me back here to determine which island needs a new king." He nodded, and they kissed on the lips once more. Benny watched his lover put on her dressing gown and walk out of the quarters. He then set about undoing the prisoner's bonds so he could be dressed.

"You love her." The prisoner observed.

"And?"

"You allow her to bed strange men?" Benny shrugged.

"She has a reputation to uphold. However, let's just say her standards of satisfaction have risen since bedding me." The Captain's eyes widened.

"You mean you…"

"Indeed. She offered me my freedom because I pleased her."

"But you didn't take it."

"No, and I couldn't ask for a better mistress to serve. But," here Benny's tone turned malicious, and the fierce pirate warrior replaced the lover of the past half hour, "at least I managed to secure the freedom of my subordinates and spared them the indignity of returning to port with an empty ship." He threw the man's clothes on the bed and took a pistol from a drawer. "I've no stomach for cowards, especially when they disappoint my mistress. So, dress, and to the hold with ye."


	11. Chess

_Hello, everyone! I'm back from my trip! I had a fantastic time, and now I'm avoiding reality by writing a bit haha. Here's a quick and dirty little ficlet I wrote on the plane ride home._

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Monroe wasn't quite sure what caused him to snap. Maybe it was the way her hair kept falling into her eyes as she concentrated on the chessboard in front of her. Maybe it was her biting her bottom lip as she attempted to weasel her way out of a check. Maybe it was her fingers stroking the smooth onyx pieces in the flickering candlelight. Maybe it was the thrill of knowing he had won the game: he had played chess long enough to know the game was his about seven moves ago. Whatever it was, when Rosalee sighed and laid down her king, he let his animal impulses take over.  
He stood, dramatically swept the chess pieces off the table onto the rug, and took a step toward her. She had a defiant glint in her eye, silently daring him to do his worst. He pulled her from her chair and into a rough kiss, pressing his body against hers. She did not reciprocate. His hands found her lapels and he pulled as hard as he could; the buttons popped and scattered, leaving her standing in a skirt and a ripped shirt with her sexy red lace bra exposed. His favorite. He picked her up and gently placed her on the table. He could smell her desire rising. He had never gone so far as to rip one of her shirts before. She started to breathe heavily as he removed his shirt. He then leaned forward and gently bit her neck while his hands roamed up her skirt. He found her underwear and roughly pulled them off. The smell of her was so delicious, he had to have her right then. He unzipped his pants, and pulled out his cock. It was stiff and throbbing for this beautiful woman before him. Without a word, he held her legs open and probed her with the tip of his manhood. She sat up more fully, braced herself with her arms behind her, and nodded; he buried himself within her, feeling her slick muscles welcome him home once more.  
Rosalee wrapped her bare legs around his khakis, pulling him closer as he pumped hard. He kept one hand on her thigh and the other grasped at her red lacy bra. He ran his fingers over the fabric before sliding his hand under it and taking her breast into his hand. He rubbed the nipple with his thumb before biting her neck once more while continuing to drive into her. Rosalee reached up and unhooked her bra, allowing her breasts to bounce freely in response to his thrusts. His hands left her breast and went back to her thighs, pounding harder into her willing pussy. Rosalee began rubbing her feet along his ass, enjoying the sensation of the khaki beneath her bare toes; it made her simultaneously feel powerful and vulnerable. Her lips met Monroe's, and this time she reciprocated the kiss as one of his large hands found her clit and started applying pressure. She pulled him closer as she careened over the edge, moaning loudly. She grasped his neck, panting, as he continued to move within her. She nibbled at his earlobes, which seemed to spur him on. A few minutes later, he came as well, leaning on the table and whispering her name into her hair. They stayed in that position for a few moments as Monroe continued to kiss her neck. After he withdrew from her, she smiled and asked:  
"If that's what happens when I lose at chess, what happens when I win?" He smiled back lovingly but shook his head.  
"I don't know if we'll ever find out, but you're welcome to try." He laughed as she put on a ridiculous fake pout, and helped her off the table. "Best two out of three?"


	12. Christmas Shivaree

_The smut-tastic follow up to the story Christmas Carol... so yay, wedding night smut!_

* * *

**Ruby Hill, Nevada, 1871**

After the Midnight Mass, newlyweds Ambrose and Rebecca Dunn went back to the apartment they now shared over Becky's general store and druggist and, after exchanging a few tired kisses, fell asleep in each other's arms. They had a busy day: they got married, hosted a wedding barbecue, and attended the Midnight Mass to celebrate Christmas. They were rightly exhausted.

A few hours later, round about four in the morning, the couple was startled awake by a ruckus from the street. The Marshall grabbed his gun and went to the window. He pulled it open, and a chill wind entered the room, causing Becky to burrow further into the pile of blankets.

Outside, he spied his deputy, Nat, leading a bunch of men from the town in drunken Christmas carols.

"Nat, what in the hell are you doing causing disorder on Christmas morning?" the Blutbad shouted down at the Grimm. Nat turned and smiled up at his partner, swaying from an overabundance of the liquid courage. When he spoke, his speech slurred.

"The boys were telling me you all have a tradition called a... Umm... What's it called again?"

"A shivaree!" Rufus Bumble reminded him, trying to steady Nat while maintaining his own balance. Nat nodded seriously.

"Yes, wherein we need to sing for the lovebirds and encourage them to be... Ummm... Lovey... And produce many babies."

Ambrose rolled his eyes. He was hoping to avoid the shivaree tradition. That was the only reason he wanted to be married Christmas Eve. He scanned the faces in the small group, and deduced the man who told Nat about the shivaree tradition: Silas, the saloon-keeper, looked right pleased with himself. Ambrose braced himself, because in most places the shivaree involved a kidnapping of the groom, and he really didn't feel like dealing with that, especially not on Christmas morning. However, Nat and Silas turned to the group and started leading them in an admittedly lovely version of Silent Night. Ambrose leaned on the windowsill smiling; Becky appeared next to him, wrapped in a thick quilt. She was smiling, too. The men stopped the song to greet the new Mrs. Dunn, and a gentle snow began to fall. They finished the song and two more before Silas herded everyone away to give the newlyweds some peace. Ambrose needed to remember to thank Silas for apparently mis-explaining the shivaree concept to Nat.  
He closed the window, drew the shade, and turned to rejoin his new wife. He found Becky, still wrapped in a quilt, sitting on the bed. The bed where, less than two months ago, they desperately made love after Ambrose was thrown from his horse during a fight. They had not been able to arrange for another rendezvous prior to their wedding.  
"It occurs to me, Mrs. Dunn," Ambrose began, as Becky smiled, "the we have yet to consummate our marriage. And since we had a right pretty serenade to encourage us to be... how did he put it? Lovey? ...I am feeling a bit amorous..." Ambrose sat on the bed next to Becky. She shrugged, and a bare shoulder peeked out from under the quilt.

"Understandable, I think, sir..."

"Mrs. Dunn, do my eyes deceive me, or do we have the makings of some impropriety here?" Ambrose lightly kissed her shoulder, looking into her eyes. He adored this woman so.

"Well, Mister Dunn, I would remind you that it is Christmas morning, and I don't know about you, but I can think of no better present for a newly married man than his willing new wife. Especially because I believe I owe you something, do I not?"

"I think you do, ma'am." That night back in November,they made love with her still wearing her camisole, a promise of future dalliances. Now Ambrose tenderly kissed his bride as she guided his hands to her shoulders. With his eyes still closed, he gently pulled the fabric from her body. They broke the kiss, and he opened his eyes and gazed for the first time upon his beloved. She smiled shyly as he examined her; she was even more beautiful than he had imagined. He reached out to touch her, starting at her cheeks and rubbing his hands down her body. He pulled her naked form into his lap and kissed her gently. The thing he had wanted most in life was real: Becky was his wife. Becky reciprocated the kiss, but broke it to tug at his trousers.

"Off." She scooted off his lap, and he stood to disrobe. She laid back on the bed, propped up on her elbows, watching him. Her desire was written all over her face. Ambrose likewise took in the sight of Miss Rebecca Cooke, now Mrs. Rebecca Dunn, laid out before him like a banquet of erotic pleasures. His body stood in rapt attention for her as she reached up for him. He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on the skin of her neck while massaging her breasts. He trailed a line of kisses to her breasts, and ever-so-gently took her nipple into his mouth. He gently sucked, running his tongue over it and the surrounding skin. Becky purred as she took his hand and guided it between her legs. He turned his attention to her other nipple as he felt her warmth and wetness coat his fingers. He could smell her desire, how much she wanted him. When they made love the first time, Becky took his manhood into her mouth and stimulated him until he released; now he wanted to try to reciprocate. He released her breasts and trailed down her body further until he was between her legs. He breathed in her scent before tentatively licking the pink slit. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he found the taste flooding his mouth very appealing, sweet. He wanted more, so he took more, licking the nub and the lips before descending into her depths. She moaned happily as he lapped up her juices. She was enjoying this, which spurred him on. He continued to lick as he brought his hand up, swirling his fingers along her lips and dipping them into her. He watched her face go from a contented smile to gasping and panting as he prodded, licked, and nibbled. He felt her contract around his finger as she cried out, flailing against their bed. Ambrose pulled himself up level with his bride, and he kissed her deeply. She ran her hands through his hair as she welcomed the feel of his tongue over hers, tasting herself in his kiss. She pushed him off her, still panting.

"Mister Dunn, this is all well and fine, but you have yet to make an honest woman of me... if'n you don't mind, we are still fornicators in the eyes of..." Ambrose chuckled and kissed her again, positioning himself between her legs, which fell open expectantly. He entered her slick heat as she grabbed once more at his hair. He felt like he was home with this woman. Sunlight began to stream through the shade, heralding the arrival of Christmas morning, and here he was, making love to his most beautiful angel. She hooked her legs around his waist and he lifted her up slightly, allowing him to cradle her head in his large hands. The only thing that mattered in the world was that they had each other. Finally.

He gently moved inside of her while continuing to kiss her and touch her all over. His wife! He still couldn't believe it. He was a lucky sonofabitch. She enthusiastically met him at each thrust with a kiss or a moan, running her fingers over his skin. She spoke, her breathing labored.

"Bite me." Ambrose pulled back. She looked deathly serious.

"You heard me. I want you to bite my neck. Not hard, but I want to feel your teeth on my skin." He obliged her, gently taking her skin in his teeth. Becky moaned and bucked her hips to meet his. Ambrose could feel the Wolf inside wanting to come out. Becky must have sensed this, because she asked, panting, that he take her like the animals they were. He withdrew and she flipped onto all fours, watching him over her shoulder. He once again looked her over, and could not resist lightly biting her little bottom. She cried out, and he positioned himself to take her from behind. He once more buried himself deep within her as she slammed herself backward. She was close, and reached up to stimulate herself. Ambrose was getting close as well, but he wanted his wife to climax. He leaned forward, causing her to gasp, and bit her shoulders, neck, and earlobes as he pounded into her. She screamed and once more slammed back upon him, panting. He once more pleased her. And he would continue to please her. Becky was his, his wife... He released deep inside her with a growl. She kneeled up, her back against his chest, wrapping her arms back around his neck as he stroked her breasts, gasping.

"Merry Christmas, Mister Dunn."

"Likewise, Mrs. Dunn."


	13. Closer (The Smutquel) AKA The Mirror

**1718, somewhere in the Caribbean**

"How about one of these small islands? There are a hundred of them or so." Ben followed the Pirate Queen's delicate finger to a point on the large map spread before them. It was due south of their current position.

"Sounds like a plan to me, Mistress. And I gathered when I took him to the brig that he is not very well-liked. I think we will be taking on most of the sailors."

"Then it is settled." She rolled up her map and tucked it away in her chest of drawers, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Benny, I would like to compliment you on your performance this morning."

"Yes, Mistress. It is always a pleasure to fight for you. You know I get quite a rush when the cannons roar..." He smiled as he teased her. She returned the smile, and shrugged her shoulders, causing her dressing gown to slip off her shoulder, exposing her breast.

"You are indeed a fierce fighter... But you know I prefer you as a lover."

"I know, Mistress." She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She still smelled like him, and Ben felt a surge of testosterone. He had pleased her once more. She reached up and kissed him tenderly on the lips. He returned her kiss, greedily pulling the dressing gown from her other shoulder.

She broke the kiss, but remained close.

"Really, Benny, you couldn't possibly desire another go." Her hands grabbed his backside and she pulled herself flush against him, finding that he did indeed desire another round.

"I always desire you, my lady." He kissed her neck, causing her to purr in his ear. She closes her eyes as he takes her earlobe into his mouth and begins to gently suck. She feels very lucky to have a man who knows how to please her and is so willing to... No. She can't think like this. She has a reputation to uphold. She needs to disabuse herself of this idea that she loves him... but at the same time, she thinks about how many times she has summoned him to her quarters recently to please her, even without demonstrations to give... How she wants to smile whenever she sees him... How she wakes up in the night feeling cold and wishes she could ask him to join her, not necessarily to love her, but to keep her warm... How she wants to hear his life story... He is still kissing her neck, and it is not helping her think.

"Ben?" He stops and pulls back. She has never addressed him as Ben the entire time he's been aboard. It's always been Benny.

"Umm, yes, ma'am?"

"Ben, what sort of life did you leave behind when you joined me?"

"Umm, well, I left the British Royal Navy and my rank as Lieutenant..."

"Where did you live? Where was your home?"

"Jamaica. Port Royal, specifically."

"And did you have a lady in... Port Royal that I stole you away from?" Ben laughed coldly.

"Mistress, please remember, you didn't steal me so much as I flung myself at you and begged you to take me with you..."

"So you did?" Ben sat on the edge of her bed and sighed deeply. He didn't usually sit until she invited him. She sat next to him and put a comforting hand on his knee.

"I knew a girl named Anne. I adored her for many a year. I went calling. I begged her to go courting. She would never agree. Then one day she suddenly agreed, she wanted to steal away with me that very moment. I think she had an argument with her parents, for she was quite angry. Things... passed the point of no return. But it was not how it should have been. She was quite... dispassionate... almost bored. She wouldn't kiss me, she just stared at the ceiling, not making a sound. Now, my parents were quite... raucous in the night, and they always seemed very happy with each other. I realized it was a mistake, and I told her so. She agreed, and I thought that was that. Lo and behold, months later, as I was preparing for my first sailing, not even yet nineteen, her father, the Magistrate, appears at my door demanding I marry her. She was with child." Here the pirate woman gasped, and held her hand over her mouth. "He said I should do the gentlemanly thing and marry her to preserve her reputation and to give the bastard proper parentage. I tried to fight it, but in the end his threats against my family and my career led me to marry. Again, I found her dispassionate and unwilling to return my affections.

"The child was stillborn, a girl. I had so been hoping for a daughter. I was going to raise her to be sweet and kind and gentle... but no, she was taken before I could even meet her. Anne drifted further away, and I started to hear scuttlebutt that she was seeking the company of some of the grooms in the stable. I decided to throw myself into sailing, working my way up the chain of command. The day you captured the Starling was the day before we were supposed to make port and go on leave. The night before, I wished upon a shooting star that I would not have to return to Anne, and my salvation came in the form of the Deception." The Pirate found herself speechless, something that did not happen very often. "And I have served her and her Captain faithfully ever since." The pirate finally found her voice. She spoke quietly as she ran her fingers over his knee.

"So... you don't regret your decision?" Ben turned to her, and took her hands in his.

"It was the best decision I've ever made, if I do say so myself... now, Mistress, may I be so bold as to ask you a question in return?"

"I believe I owe you that much, good sir."

"What is your actual name?"

"Rosa. Rosa Maria Marcos-Gobernado. And I really am from Cartagena." Ben nodded.

"Very well. Now, Mistress, if I may be so bold, I believe we were in the process of starting something, were we not?" His hands found the sleeves of her dressing gown and started moving up to her bare shoulders. The lady smiled at his brazeness.

"Oh, Benny, you're such a pirate."

"If you insist, Mistress."

"I think I do insist." Rosa said quietly, leaning into his touch. His hands removed the dressing gown from her shoulders once more, but this time there was a gentleness that was not there before. Usually when he loved her, it was hungry, primal, as if he had been starved his entire life; it was violent and passionate, just the way Rosa liked it. But now he moved slowly, his fingers creeping across her skin. She felt almost unnerved by how slowly and softly his hands ghosted across her shoulders, pushing the silky fabric of her dressing gown down her arms. He pulled her forward into a kiss, soft upon her lips. Rosa felt her panic rising; she couldn't give in to this. He was trying to get her to love him... but it felt so nice... She had to take control back. She pulled away.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. He nodded, but didn't speak. She wanted him, but if she allows him to take her slowly and gently, she may as well give up her ship now. She stood, dropping her gown to the floor. She did not look at him as she pounced on him, clawing at his shirt and trousers. If he still looks as disappointed as he did, she would probably break down and cry... but then she got an idea. She backs off him and goes over to her large mirror.

"Mistress?" Ben asked, looking confused as she adjusts the mirror to face the bed.

"I thought you deserved a bit of a treat, Benny." She sauntered back over to the bed, climbing into the silky fabric.

"Really?"

"Well, as I mentioned, you performed very well this morning, so I thought it might be interesting to allow you to see what our guest saw, if you're willing."

"Intriguing, Mistress..." He reached down, taking his sizable manhood into his hands, stroking himself while watching in the mirror. She pulled herself up next to him, rubbing her breasts against his back. She reached around to stroke his length as well. He turned to face her, and she attacked his lips with her eyes closed; she still cannot bring herself to look him in the eye. His hands are still gentle upon her skin, but she ignores it. She breaks the kiss and turns away from him on hands and knees, trying to discern a proper angle. He watches her, fascinated, as she purposely shows off her sweet little backside to him. What a beautiful woman. He wants to kick himself; he had the opportunity to ask her anything and all he wanted was her name? Why not find out why such a gorgeous woman chose a pirate's life and not an easy life wed to a rich man? She circled the bed until she found the view she was looking for and looked expectantly over her shoulder. She wanted him. He wanted her. He loved her. And soon enough, he would find a way to get her to love him as well. But right now, she wanted another tumble in the sheets. He moved behind her, watching their reflections. His reflection reached between her legs, causing her reflection to smile. He positioned himself at her entrance and watched as his length disappeared within her, and she moaned. He continued to watch, fascinated, as his cock disappeared and reappeared. She enthusiastically met his thrusts, and his gaze shifted from watching himself to watching her. The way she closed her eyes as she slammed backwards into him. Her hair falling like a curtain over her shoulders, which she swept back only for it to fall forward again. The swing of her breasts, beautiful, fleshy pendulums, in the rhythm of their movement together. She would be his. His hand moved on its own accord and slapped her backside. Yes, he would find a way into her heart. He reached forward and took a handful of her hair, just as she liked, and pulled. The entire time, his eyes were fixed on the reflection of her face. Her eyes opened and met his in the mirror for a brief moment before she squeezed them shut again. She reached up to touch herself, and she crashed once more for him.

He continued moving as he watched her pant. The only thing he could think of was making her admit she loved him. He would do whatever it took. She would love him. He would sail to the end of the Earth and walk back for her; he would capture all the stars she desired and tie them around the necks of the dolphins she loved so well; he would find a way to win her. These thoughts spurred him on, and as he crested, he thought he heard her whisper she did love him... He shook it away, but vowed it would happen or he would die trying.


	14. Heat, 1872

_Yes, I know I've been heavy on the past-life smut lately. I have two present-day smut ficlets that I'm working on, but I finished this one first. And far be it from me to keep you guys from your smut longer than necessary..._

* * *

**Ruby Hill, Nevada, 1872**

Marshall Ambrose Dunn was opening up the office for the morning. It was the last week of January. He smiled, humming to himself. He had been married about a month to the love of his life, and he had never felt more alive. His beautiful Becky... He smiled as he caught a whiff of her scent coming off his clothes... her scent seemed a little different today... Actually, her scent was getting stronger...

The door to the office swung open with a clatter. His deputy Nat was never this early. Or this noisy. Ambrose was surprised to find his wife holding the door open, panting hard. She must have run from their apartment. Her hair was mussed, as if she hadn't had time to brush it, and she was only half-dressed. Her scent filled the room, making the air thick and heavy with her desire. Ambrose suddenly remembered that she mentioned something recently about Fuchsbau and mating... he cautiously walked over to his wife.

"Umm, good morning, beautiful..."

Becky grabbed her husband by the lapels and pinned him against the wall, attacking him with frantic kisses.

"Please come home," she whispered against his lips, "I need you to love me right now."

"Okay, just let me get my things... And leave a note for Nat..." Ambrose gently pushed her away and sat at his desk. He rummaged around for some paper and a pen and pulled out his reading glasses. Becky started kissing his neck as he tried to write that he was taking the day off.

"You look mighty handsome with those spectacles." Becky purred against his neck.

"Becky, I know what you need, but you're going to have to be patient for just a little longer..." With a surge of strength that surprised the Blutbad, Becky pulled the Marshall's chair away from the desk and climbed into his lap, straddling him.

"Can't be patient when you look like that..." She whispered as she grabbed his cheeks and kissed him hard. She lifted her skirt slightly and he realized she wasn't wearing bloomers. Her femininity was in direct contact with his trousers, and she ground down onto his lap. She ran her hands through his hair and he stopped struggling and allowed her to kiss him. He reached up and ran his hands through her hair as well, enjoying the taste of her tongue on his. They were so absorbed in each other they didn't hear Nat enter the office. The Grimm stopped and stared at the two Wesen, clawing at each other, kissing desperately, as if the other was their only source of oxygen. They didn't notice him, so he averted his eyes and cleared his throat. They still didn't notice.

"What are you two doing?" He asked. Ambrose turned to face him, Becky continuing to passionately kiss his cheek.

"What in hell does it look like we're doing, Nat?" He asked, looking as if he were drunk, as Becky started licking his neck, "I have myself a bit of a family situation... I need to take the day off... I will explain at another time..."

"Obviously..." Nat cautiously stepped closer. Becky turned, woged, and snapped at the Grimm, who backed away. She growled, shifted back, and found her husband's lips once more. Ambrose was trying to apologize to Nat into his wife's mouth. Nat found it kind of funny, actually, watching his partner attempt to talk and kiss at the same time; Becky was trying to pull off Ambrose's duster jacket while he was trying to keep it on so they could leave. Nat vaguely remembered reading something about Fuchsbau females having a mating season, but decided he didn't want to think about that. Ambrose gently pushed his wife back so he could speak.

"Now, Becky, give me a minute, please. I promise I will tend to you in just a few moments..." She backed off him and stood, walked around the back of the chair, and once more started kissing his neck. Ambrose sighed, looking up at his Deputy, his glasses askew."Umm, yeah, only things of the utmost importance today... If it ain't on fire or dying, leave us be. Got it?" Nat nodded. Ambrose stood and turned to his wife. "Now, Missy, you and I have some business to attend to." He swept her up into his arms, nodding to Nat. Becky threw her arms around his neck, showering his cheeks with kisses.

"Have fun!" Nat said as Ambrose carried Becky out of the office. She stopped kissing her husband long enough to shout back at him.

"We always do!"

The town of Ruby Hill was still waking, so the Dunns did not encounter anyone between the Marshall's office and the general store and druggist, with their apartment above. Ambrose kept inhaling his wife's scent; while it was normally inspiring, today it was intoxicating, bewitching. She was sucking his earlobe and he wanted nothing more than to set her down and take her right now in the middle of the street. His logic reminded him that would not reflect well on the town if their Marshall got arrested for indecency.

They finally made it back to the store, and Ambrose gently set Becky down. The door was locked. Becky has a sly glint in her eye.

"Where is the key, Becky?" he asked. She giggled.

"Well, Mister Dunn, I will tell you it is somewhere on my person..." She raised his hands to her bosoms. Ambrose gently pushed her back into the doorframe and bent down to whisper in her ear, his moustache sweeping against the sensitive skin of her neck and ear.

"Mrs. Dunn, I am about ready to wrestle you out of your clothes and have my way with you in the middle of the street. However, I don't want to have to explain that to Nat when he comes to arrest us for public indecency. The sooner you open the door, the sooner we can both get what we want." The Fuchsbau tsked him as she reached into her cleavage and pulled out the key.

"I was only keeping it warm, sir..." Once inside the shop, Ambrose locked the door and put up a sign saying the shop would be closed today. He heard the stairs creak behind him, and saw a trail of clothing leading to the stairs. He smiled to himself. He was a lucky man. Some of the town residents thought the Marshall and his wife were uptight; prudes, even... they had no idea. He picked up her clothing and followed his mate up the stairs.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he was nearly knocked off his feet by a ball of fur, hair, and skin. Becky tackled him, pinning him once more against the wall. Their mouths met, and Becky began frantically removing Ambrose's clothes. He attempted to help her, but she swatted his hands away. Off went his duster, his waistcoat, his suspenders, his tie, and his shirt. Ambrose kicked off his boots as his wife ran her hands along the skin of his chest. Ambrose went to remove his spectacles, but Becky stopped him, panting, before attacking his neck with kisses as she slowly peeled away his trousers. Now they were both naked. Becky grabbed his stiff cock and roughly stroked as Ambrose turned them around, now pinning her against the wall. Becky gasped as she felt the wood against her bare back. He once more lowered his mouth to her ear.

"Now, Mrs. Dunn, you have been quite a bad girl today. Walking around in public half dressed, attempting to seduce a town Marshall, reckless kissing, hiding the key in an improper place and expecting me to get it out in public, abandoning your clothing on the floor, and tackling a lawman while attempting to forcibly remove his clothes like some sort of scarlet woman. How do you plead?"

"Guilty," she breathed. "Guilty on all counts. But I can't help it, I'm not myself... I didn't know what I was doing."

"Oh, I think you did. I hereby sentence you to be loved, right here, right now, until we are both satisfied. The Judge has spoken." With that, Ambrose lifted his petite wife off the ground, leaning her back against the wall. She looked surprised at first, but happily wrapped her legs around his waist, settling on his cock. Ambrose felt the warm, wet embrace of his lover and he leaned into her. Their lips once more met as the man pumped into his wife. The wall provided excellent leverage, and Becky moaned into his mouth. He loved nothing more than to please her. She reached up and ran her hands through his hair, and broke the kiss to bite at his neck. Her nails scratched his skin; he loved when he could call the animal out of her. Ambrose closed his eyes, and tried to breathe slowly. If he recalled correctly, she would remain in this state until he released inside her... If he could control himself...

Becky felt her body building up to release. Her husband's length and girth assured he hit the right spot internally, but the position allowed the correct external spot to be stimulated without additional assistance. He drove into her with such strength, such force... she was a lucky woman. She felt herself getting close. He adjusted himself and she released, screaming, throwing herself back against the wall.

He gently set her down as she panted.

"Don't hurt yourself, honey." He whispered in his ear as he spun her so she was facing the wall. "We ain't done yet." He entered her again, holding her arms against the wall. Her breasts moved against the wood, and Ambrose buried his face in her hair. They were so close together, and her pussy felt so tight around him he thought he would explode. She growled like a wildcat under him, trying to turn and catch his lips.

His hands released her wrists and moved down her body, and he rubbed her as he continued to thrust. He felt her getting tighter. As much as he wanted to hold out, when she cried out again and her muscles clamped down once more upon him, it seemed to squeeze his orgasm out of him, and he punched the wall, yelling. This was the most intense he'd ever had. He panted as he rubbed his wife's shoulders, slipping out of her. She was also breathing heavily and she turned to face him.

"I think I need to sit down." He managed to say, and she nodded in agreement. They laid down on the bed together, and she kissed him gently.

"That was amazing." Becky commented.

"I'm going to go a bit further and say I think I just about had a religious experience. My little angel, you can be quite a devil, can't you?"

"I don't think I'm that bad, Marshall."

"On the contrary, Madam, we've got quite a bit of explaining to do to Nat tomorrow."

"Well, what does he expect married folk to get up to?"

"Becky, we nearly made love in the office. I don't think he was expecting us to get up to it there... It's not like he busted down our door whilst we were canoodling..."

"Details, sir." She whispered as she gently kissed him again.

XxXxX

Later that night, the Dunns filled up the bathtub and sat together in the water, exchanging kisses. Ambrose scooped handfuls of water and poured them on her shoulders, watching the water run down her breasts and back.

"I am a lucky man." He commented absently as she leaned back onto him. She smiled contentedly.

"I agree, sir. How did you manage to secure a woman such as I?" She laughed as he splashed her gently. He nuzzled her neck.

"So I guess we should start thinking about having some little ones..." She nodded.

"We can start with one and go from there. More than two, and we may need a house..."

"How many do you think you'd like, Becky?" He again scooped water and let it drip onto her skin.

"I don't know, but I would have a whole litter if you were their Papa. You're going to be a wonderful father."

"And you'll be a wonderful mother, Becky." He whispered as he kissed her temple, smiling.


	15. Face-to-Face

_Okay, I have never been pregnant, but I'm at the age where a lot of my friends are having kids, so I'm privy to a lot of conversations involving some of the things mentioned. I'm sorry if you find any of this unsexy (talk of stretch marks and lactation and whatnot), but I think there is nothing sexier than a man who is proud to be a father and that helps him see his woman as a new kind of beautiful._

* * *

"I know this is kind of a weird observation, but we haven't had much variety in our positions lately... At least insofar as we haven't spent much time facing each other... I don't know." Monroe runs his fingers gently through his wife's hair. Their second wedding anniversary is coming up, and Rosalee just asked him what sort of "favors" he would like to celebrate.

"So what you want is... What? I'm not sure I follow." Rosalee questions. Monroe sighs.

"I want a night of making love to you and being able to look you in the eye and kiss you. Since Sophia was born, you're constantly begging me to take you from behind; don't get me wrong, I love that, but I'd like to see my wife every now and then." Rosalee pauses, mulling the idea over.

"That's all you want? I mean, I'm offering you anything you want..." He nods.

"What I desperately want is you. You're everything I want, the rest is just gravy." She smiles and gently kisses him on the lips, but he sees the worry in her eyes.

The day arrives, and Rosalee feels trepidation about the night to come. Monroe wants to see her. She's lost most of the baby weight, and he's a breast man, so he'll be happy she's apparently gained a cup size... But she's been careful about him not seeing the stretch marks. They're everywhere, a spider-webbing on her breasts and stomach. And she can't make them go away. Before Sophia, he would compliment her beautiful skin. What will he say now?

Monroe gets their room ready, wondering what Rosalee is worried about. As he arranges the large candles, he realizes he hasn't seen her naked from the front since before the birth. He also remembers the sudden appearance of a small army of jars in their medicine cabinet. He quickly pops into the bathroom and takes a look. Cocoa butter. Shea butter. Various skin creams that promise to make stretch marks go away. He shakes his head. That can't be right. His gorgeous wife, the mother of his beautiful daughter, is all shook up over some stretch marks? Surely they can't be that bad. He sighs. If that's what she's worried about, he'll just have to show her he still wants her. He goes downstairs to check on their dinner.

Their dinner, while delicious, is not particularly remarkable, and as Monroe watches Rosalee feed Sophia he feels the need to remark on how beautiful the scene is to him; Rosalee smiles shyly in response. Rosalee puts Sophia to bed, takes a deep breath, and goes to their bedroom.

Rosalee finds Monroe lighting the candles, and he waves out the match. He is shirtless, standing in red silk boxers. In the flickering candlelight, she almost forgets the way he carefully, shyly wooed her with words and quirks and humor and sweet gestures; she's pretty sure she remembers the way he won her was by pulling out his cock for her. She wants her mate, and her mate wants her. She can smell it, she can see it. But then she remembers what he wants, and even though she keeps a calm veneer, she begins to panic. He frowns. He can smell her fear. He closes the space between them and gently runs his hand through her hair, looking into her eyes. She sees herself reflected back in them, and that calms her. He only sees her. He brings her into a kiss, and she can feel him trying to channel his feelings into that kiss. He loves her. He wants her.

His hands move to remove her sweater, and she breaks the kiss. She takes a few deep breaths while he looks at her, questioning.

"Are you okay, love?" She can't bring herself to speak. Fortunately, as he often does, he apparently reads her mind.

"Does this have to do with all those butters and creams and junk in the bathroom?" She nods, averting her eyes. "So you think I won't love you because your body looks a little different?" She looks away. He reaches out and gently takes her hand. "Honey, I know why your body changed. It was because you saw fit to give me the greatest gift anybody's ever given me." He pulled her into a gentle embrace. "You saw a terrible, broken man and somehow decided he was worth taking a chance on. You decided he was worth the rest of your life, so you agreed to marry him. And then you saw fit to give him a family, a beautiful little girl. How could I not love the mother of my Pup? She's beautiful, and you're beautiful, and you're both mine." He gently kisses her lips, and Rosalee finds her courage. Of course Monroe would love her, she is his Alpha female, his mate. She shouldn't punish him for her own vanities...

When they part, Rosalee guides his hands as he removes her sweater. He leads her over to the bed, kissing down her neck as she removes her jeans. In the flickering candlelight, he sees the stripes.

"I always knew you were secretly a tiger." She smiles and unhooks her bra. He smiles back widely and reaches for them gently. She fed Sophia earlier, so it shouldn't be messy (they made that mistake once, and once was enough). He buries his face between her breasts, relishing the feel of her skin against his. The stretch marks had a different texture, which he finds fascinating. She giggles at the sensation of his facial hair against her skin. She did miss this.

After a few minutes, Rosalee is emboldened and removes her underwear. Monroe guides her hands to his boxers, but instead of taking them off, Rosalee rubs his stiff cock with the silky material, causing him to groan. She removes his boxers and takes in the sight if him. He actually seems harder for her allowing him to see her. She strokes him before starting to lick and kiss it. As always, it tastes wonderful. She sucks him a while as he watches her intently. She is aware of his eyes on her, but she isn't worried anymore. She looks up at him, mouth tight around the tip, and can't help the rush of warmth between her legs as she looks into his eyes in the candlelight and he stares intently back at her. She releases him, and he sits up against the headboard of the bed. She climbs over him, and gently settles herself down on his cock. He buries his face in her neck as her warmth wraps around him. He kisses her shoulder, and she slowly begins to move up and down on him as he sits, gently running his fingers along her skin. He looks into her eyes, and she again realizes how intense his gaze is, and she holds it as she leans forward, their noses ever-so-slightly touching.

"I love you." He whispers as if in a daze. "I love your pretty brown eyes and your tight pussy and your stripes and your smile and your hands and your mind and I love that you're mine and we're a family... I love everything about you..."

She continues to move on top of him, but feels compelled to repay him in kind for his words.

"I love you too. I love your laugh and your dumb jokes and how safe I feel with you and your huge cock and your kisses and how you fuck me like I'm the only woman in the world worth having..."

"You are..." Their lips meet hungrily as he wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. Their closeness limits her range of motion, so Rosalee dispenses with the riding and squeezes her inner muscles around him instead. She leans forward, pinning him against the headboard, and his hands move in slow, lazy patterns down her back and through her hair.

They break the kiss, but remain nose-to-nose.

"Are you up for a change?" Monroe asks quietly. Rosalee nods her assent and disengages from him. He gently lays her out on the bed, her back against his chest, lifting her leg to open her pussy up. She hooks her leg over his waist as he penetrates her, and they are once more nose to nose as he thrusts into her. Rosalee's hand finds its way to her clit. He isn't thrusting as deeply as he usually does, so she doesn't feel as full, but she starts to feel her muscles tighten as she touches herself. Monroe begins to lick the sensitive spots on her neck under her ear and across her throat. He seems to sense she is close as he pumpsa little harder into her. She kisses him once more as she comes, grabbing desperately at his hair as he pinches her nipple. A few more thrusts and Monroe comes as well. They lie together, a tangle of limbs, as the warmth spreads in their bodies. They kiss a few more times, pull apart, and Rosalee's head finds her husband's chest. She runs her fingers along his chest as her hair falls over his shoulder. He kisses her forehead.

"That was definitely a great anniversary present, don't you agree, little tiger?"

"Rawr." They smile at each other as Monroe pulls a blanket over them.

"I thought Rawr means 'I love you' in Dinosaur? Or does it translate across to Tiger?" She giggles as she kisses him once more.


End file.
